He laughed in my ear, letting his mouth run along the delicate skin of my neck.
"I drive you crazy?" he asked. "How do you think I feel?" He bit down lightly on the skin at the base of my neck. "I tried to take this slow, but your pussy is so fucking tight, and you're squeezing those muscles every few seconds, trying my patience and my sanity."
I squeezed involuntarily, and he groaned into my ear.
"I've wanted you for weeks. Then, today, you rode on the back of my bike, wrapped around me, for hours, sometimes with your hand in my lap, laying right over my goddamned cock. And you wonder why I have no fucking patience?"
I didn't wonder at all, actually.
What I was thinking about, however, was the way this new position made him feel inside of me.
I felt him everywhere.
"Touch yourself," he ordered.
My eyes fell closed, and I moved my hand down to come to a rest on my pubic bone. My fingers were curled lightly around the lips of my sex, and I moved one lone finger through the folds, amazed by how wet I was down there.
Then I came into contact where his cock was moving inside of me, and my heart started to pick up.
I was so stretched, that it felt like my entrance was straining to accommodate him. I knew if he wasn't careful, he really could hurt me.
But I didn't need to worry.
The man knew what he was doing, that was for sure.
Especially when he started to lift me, his large hand around my waist. Moving me up and down the length of his shaft, filling me over and over in smooth, calculated thrusts.
"Goddamn, you feel like fuckin' heaven," he rumbled, his beard tickling my shoulder. "I keep thinking I'm going to be able to hold on for you to come, and then I get to thinking about how good you feel and forget I'm supposed to wait."
I curled my arm up and around his neck, holding his head to me as I turned my own and pressed a soft, wet kiss on his lips.
He growled into my mouth, and suddenly I found myself empty, crying out, and flipping to my back.
He was on me before I could comment on his abruptness, filling me back up with his length, and hitting new and even more exciting spots inside of me.
The breath left me once again, the third, fourth, or whoever knew how many times, and I struggled not to pass out from the pleasure he was inflicting on me.
I lifted my feet, curling them around his big body, and held on as he took me roughly.
"Fuckin' get there," he growled. "Or I'll go without you." He sounded tortured, but I didn't argue with his terse words.
Instead, I moved my hand back in place, and slowly started to circle my clit, being careful not to touch where we were joined again.
Because despite what most women said, I did want to get off. I wanted to come with him inside of me, and it did matter if he came and I didn't.
In the end it didn't matter, because all it took was eight circles of my fingers, combined with his precise thrusts hitting that special spot inside of me that no one else had ever hit before in my life, and I was coming.
Hard.
I clamped down so hard on him that I knew the instant he knew I was coming.
His eyes changed, his jaw clenched, and he stared into my eyes as he let go, too.
We came together.
Him only seconds behind me.
And it. Was. Glorious.
At least until he collapsed beside me, his large, muscular arm going over my chest, and his thick, strong thigh pinning down one leg.
"Ughhh!" I groaned. "You weigh a freakin' ton, Sean."
He didn't move.
"Seanshine!"
He got up on one elbow and narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't call me that."
My lips twitched, but my eyes, I hoped, remained innocent.
"Why not?" I asked joyfully, running my bare foot up and down the length of his thigh. "I think it's cute."
He bent down and bit my lip lightly.
"Because I asked you not to," he tried.
I shook my head, grinned, and said, "Not good enough."
He growled and pulled back, his cock sliding out of me.
Then his fingers were there, touching me and feeling me, and I blushed.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, sitting up.
He let his fingers slide through my folds to my entrance, and probed softly.
"Just making sure I didn't do any irreparable damage," he teased.
I picked up the pillow I'd screamed in the entire time, and hit him upside the head with it.
"Shut up." I pushed him away and stood up, walking carefully to the bathroom.
I was sore, but it was a good kind of sore. One where I would be feeling him tomorrow while I was at work. And remembering how good he felt inside of me the entire time, counting down the hours until we could do it again.