“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he just shook his head and returned to his task, and Angeline went back to gaping. His penis still looked full and formidable—firm enough that the new condom he rolled on stretched tightly across his girth. She longed to touch him, taste him, but he came back over her a few seconds later and once again slid his cock into her slit.
“You’re beauty, Angeline.”
Her mouth fell open at the impact of being impaled by him again combined with his gruffly uttered—and damnably sweet—turn of phrase.
Then he kissed her neck languorously, and Angeline realized that he hadn’t wanted their post-coital intimacy to end, despite the necessity of requiring a new condom. He wanted to stretch the moment.
Make it last.
The realization made her eyelids burn for some reason.
He nuzzled her lips with his own and she turned her head. Thei
r mouths fit perfectly, just as their bodies did. For long, delicious moments, they kissed while his cock throbbed and swelled inside her.
It felt decadent, wildly erotic, to move so slowly and languidly from the heated afterglow to the simmering burn once again.
She couldn’t get enough of his lips, his tongue, his taste. It was as if she’d thirsted her whole life and never knew for what, precisely, until that moment. No one had ever kissed her like Alex did. He ate her mouth and plundered her depths as if she were the last sensual feast in which he’d ever partake. It was the sweetest intoxicant a woman could drink, to feel a man such as Alex’s sexual desire as if it were as real as his dense, flexing muscle and the hard flesh that joined their bodies for this brief, carnal union.
He lifted his head and pressed his lips to her neck. His mouth opened as she murmured, as though he wanted to consume the vibrations of his name in her throat. Her head fell back, exposing more of her skin for his ravishment.
He moved as he explored her with his lips, stroking her pussy slowly, carefully building their fire. He nibbled lightly at her earlobe and she shivered.
“Are you sore—from the first time?” he asked quietly as he continued to stroke her, causing a delicious friction to build in her pussy—like a sexual itch that needed to be scratched at all costs.
“No.” She turned her head and brushed her mouth against his, then bit at his lower lip.
“No?” he rasped as he nipped her back. “I rode you hard.”
“I liked it, as I recall.”
He lifted his head and stroked her more deeply while their gazes held. His satisfied grunt pleased her on some primal level.
“You’re very tight, but very wet. I suppose that helps things. You fit me better than I imagined you would. And I imagined plenty.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. So she stared up at him while his cock massaged her deeply and thoroughly, drowning in sensation. It was intensely intimate to lie there while he fucked her, their previous climaxes keeping the wildfire at bay, but still…
The burn scorched her almost as greatly as Alex’s stare did.
It became too much to bear. He was practically a stranger to her, after all. She turned her head away and closed her eyes. Her hips shifted beneath him, moving in a counter rhythm to his thrusts.
“Look at me, Angeline,” he demanded after a moment, never ceasing his shallow, slow thrusts.
She clutched her eyes shut. It was bad enough she was doing this wild, impulsive thing—fucking her boyfriend’s son in the secret darkness of night. Why did it have to make her feel so unbearably raw, as well, like his gaze could cut down to her very soul?
He pushed into her to the hilt and drew tiny circles with his hips, stimulating her clit. She hissed in pleasure, and then moaned when he stopped.
“I said look at me, Angeline.”
She felt an overpowering urge to follow his command. That realization made her more determined not to do it. She clamped her eyelids and tightened her vaginal muscles, squeezing him…taunting him into riding her hard once again, begging him to steer her over the edge into blissful forgetfulness.
He groaned roughly. Her eyes flew open when he withdrew. He had her flipped over onto her belly before any cohesive thought could enter her brain.
“What the—?”
She stopped mid-sentence when he grabbed her hips, lifting them off the sleeping bag. He placed first one pillow beneath them, and then took hold of the one her head had been resting on previously and shoved that beneath her hips as well. A cry of surprise popped out of her throat when he landed a spank on her right buttock. It didn’t hurt, necessarily, but it stung. She tried to sit up and roll away, but he leaned down and placed his forearm across her lower back, keeping her in place. He smacked her bottom as she squirmed beneath him, surprised and outraged by his treatment.