I need to come.
He knows it, and as soon as I’m close, he pulls back.
“Wes,” I growl, trying to find my voice. I reach down with my free hand and take a tangle of his hair, keeping his head against me. “Weston Dawson,” I say, forcing my eyes open. “If you stop—”
“What?” He looks up with so much lust in his eyes I could drown. “What will you do if I stop?”
Holy fuck, this man. I arch my back, pushing my pussy forward and in his face.
“If you stop, I’ll be forced to finish myself while you watch, and then I won’t let you lay a finger on me.”
Wes inhales and dives back in with an open mouth. He licks and sucks with fury, and only a minute later I’m hardly able to hold myself up. The orgasm rolls through me, slow at first and then crashing in with fury. It floods every part of me, making my toes curl and my ears ring. I come so hard wetness spills from me.
“Holy shit,” he pants, wiping his face.
“Should I be sorry?” I pant as stars dot my vision.
“Hell no. You are so fucking sexy, Scarlet.”
I rapidly blink, still floating on ecstasy. I pitch forward, hands landing on Weston’s broad shoulders. He stands, scooping me up. I’m like a rag doll in his hands. He brings me to the bed, gently laying me down. He moves on top of me, parting my legs and moving between.
I’m still fully dressed, with damp thighs and wet panties. He brushes my messy hair back, kissing me so that I taste myself on his lips. I feebly reach for the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up over his head. It’s a moot point; I’m not fully functional yet. My pussy is still spasming from the intense orgasm he just gave me, and we’re not even close to being done.
“Weston,” I breathe, so quiet I’m not sure if he can hear me.
“Scarlet,” he whispers back, holding himself over me. I swallow hard and bite my lip.
Reaching down, I undo the button on his jeans, freeing his massive cock. The sheer size of that thing is hardly contained by his boxers, and it feels so fucking good in my hand. I push his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. I let my eyes fall shut, waiting until my heart stops racing to sit up. I plant my hands on Weston’s muscular chest and give him a shove. He’s so big and so solid he doesn’t move.
Instead, he takes my hands, moves them aside, and flips me over onto my stomach. With a slap to my ass, he gathers the hem of my dress in one hand and slips the other under the band of my panties. I arch my back, making it easy for him to pull them off me.
“Sit up,” he grunts, and I obey without question. Licking his lips, he eyes me up and down. I push onto my knees, looking at his cock in all its massive glory. Precum wets the tip, spilling down the thick shaft.
Weston grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head. He groans with want when he sees me. He inches closer, running a hand up and over my breasts. The dress I was wearing required a pushup bra, and I’m looking all cleavagey right now, with my tits pushed up and together. He brings his head in to my breasts, kissing his way up along my collarbone. With deft fingers, he unhooks my bra.
I hold the cups against me, slowly letting the straps fall down one at a time. Weston waits, licking his lips with anticipation. I smile coyly, watching his face as I let my bra fall to the mattress. He sweeps his hands over me, thumbs circling my nipples.
“You’re beautiful,” he says and moves back to me, kissing me with fervor. I’m on my knees, naked before this man, but I’m anything but shy. I push him back, wanting to level the playing field. He needs to be naked too.
Biting my lip, I inch forward, hands going to his pants. I pull them the rest of the way down, after struggling to get them over his ass, Wes gets impatient and yanks them off.
“Your shirt,” I say, leaning back a bit. “Take it off.”
Wes looks me right in the eye and gives me a devilish smile before pulling his shirt over his head.
I want him to go down on me again, make me come so hard the entire world falls off its axis again. But there’s another thing I want more than coming so hard nothing else matters.
Him.
I want to feel him push inside me. I want to join together, even briefly, and exist as one. It’s fucking lame, I know, but dammit, I’m craving him like a starving man craves food.