SEXT

I rise on still-shaky legs, and he immediately wraps an arm around my waist, crushes his mouth to mine.

“I want to fuck you properly first,” he whispers against my lips.

I grin and kiss him again, softly. “Mm, I suppose I’m okay with that.”

He bends to his jeans, digs in the pockets for a condom. When he unwraps it, I reach for it, and he laughs and lets me take it. I slide it down his cock, savoring the feeling of his hardness between my palms as I do.

“Clove…”

With the condom on, I look up to find him watching me steadily, a hungry gleam in his eye. “Zayne?”

“You drive me absolutely wild.”

My cheeks flush. “I could say the same for you.”

He laughs. “Good.” Then he wraps his arms around me and forces me backward a step. Another step. And another, until we crash onto the couch, and he’s lying along me, and our lips collide again, his hot and possessive. “You’re mine,” he growls against my mouth, and I arch up against him to emphasize the point, sighing in the back of my throat with agreement.

He spreads my thighs, pushes his hips between them, and I wrap my legs around his waist, angling my hips to give him the best access. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” he murmurs as he strokes his cock between my lips, tracing the length of my slit. He runs from my ass all the way up to dig lightly against my clit, before he slides back down. I’m soaking wet again already, both from how turned on I got sucking his cock and from his ministrations now, and it doesn’t take long before his head is coated in my juices.

“You might have mentioned.” I smirk, and he leans down to nip my neck lightly.

“Good. Because you need to know that, Clove. That, and that you are the sexiest, hottest, naughtiest slut I’ve ever had the pleasure of being with.”

I laugh a little and trace my hands over his back. Shit, even his back is muscular, chiseled to perfection. I let my hands slide down to his hips, his ass, and I grip his ass tightly, my nails digging into his skin a little, his muscles tense and strong beneath my fingers. “I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like being quite so slutty for someone before.”

He grins. “Even better.” He’s still stroking me slowly with his cock, teasing again. It makes my muscles tense with anticipation, my throat dry and body trembling.

“Fuck, Zayne…”

“Is that what you want?” he whispers into the crook of my neck as he layers kisses along my collarbone. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck yes.”

He pauses right at my entrance. Adding pressure but not enough to push his cock inside me, not yet. I arch my hips up toward him, but he catches them in both hands and pins me against the couch, holding me down. “What do you say?” he asks with a glint in his eye.

“Please,” I gasp.

Only then does he thrust inside me, his hands still wrapped around my hips so tight I can feel each of his fingers imprinted.

And his cock. Fuck.

He stretches my pussy wide, makes me feel tight around him. He’s thick, and so long that when he pushes all the way into me, I can just feel his tip bottoming out at the end of my pussy, buried as far inside me as possible.

Both of us moan, our faces pressed together, his stubble on my cheek. It feels so fucking good, his warm skin on mine, his muscles hard everywhere that I’m soft, his cock thick and pulsing with desire inside me.

For a second, he turns his head, and our eyes meet, both of us lost, distracted by the sensation. The way that it feels like relief, scratching an itch I never knew I had. Finding home again.

Then he bites my earlobe sharply and that pulls me back into myself, into the physical sensations.

“Zayne,” I murmur as he pulls back out of me again. My pussy tightens, contracts as it adjusts to his girth, and he sucks in another sharp breath at that feeling.

“Fuck, Clove. You are so fucking tight. So wet and hot…”

“Fuck me, Zayne. I want to feel your cock claim every inch of my pussy.”

He pins me against the couch with a growl and starts to thrust in a rhythm, faster with each motion. His cock glides in and out of me, slick with my juices, and every time he slams back into me, my body rocks with the sensation. I strain to thrust against him, to match his pace, but he keeps me pushed against the couch, controlling the motion, controlling me, my pleasure, my body. I surrender to him, loving the feeling of giving up control.