Nights With Him(91)

He ran a hand down her back. “God, you’re perfect,” he said, stopping at her ass, spreading her cheeks apart. “You’re so fucking perfect, and so ready.”

She turned her neck to meet his gaze. “I want to watch,” she said, surprised at the words that had just come out of her mouth. She hadn’t thought about watching. But she found she desperately wanted to. Keeping her eyes open kept her in the moment.

“Watch everything,” he told her as he rubbed his thumb on her opening. “So ready,” he murmured, lowering his head to flick his tongue against her bottom.

She drew a sharp breath from the sweet intensity of his tongue, then he rubbed the head of his cock against her. Tension rolled through her bones as some deep part of her instinctual nature warned her against the potential pain. But she pushed it out of her mind as he slowly, carefully eased into her.

She curled her shoulders forward in reaction from the pressure inside her rear. Like a deep, far stretching of her whole body, of every muscle and fiber in her being. He was barely in, maybe only an inch, and she had no clue how he was going to fit any more of himself in her.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, stilling.

“Yes,” she answered truthfully. “But I still want it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and on an exhale, she said, “More.”

He pushed in further, and it was like being stretched in directions she didn’t know she had. She gritted her teeth. She felt as if she might burst, and she wasn’t sure if it felt good or bad. Or just weird. But she didn’t look away. She kept her gaze on him the whole time.

“You’re so open for me,” he murmured, tearing his eyes away from her face to stare at her ass. “So beautiful and so open,” he said, and the words were like some kind of ode. Tender and dirty. Just like this man. Maybe that’s why she finally was able to relax into this new sensation—because it was him. Because he wanted her in ways no one else ever had. Because he was as possessed by her as she was by him.

At that point it was all mental. Her body was ready to receive him. He’d prepped her well. She raised her ass higher, lowered herself further on her elbows, and invited him in all the way. Her sex throbbed. Her clit ached. She was dying to be touched all over.

He sank in. The sheer pressure spread in waves, radiating across her back, her belly, her breasts, up to her face, even. Like ripples of pleasure, coupled with this sensation of being full as she brought him inside her.

“It’s better than I dreamed about,” he said, and his voice was the very sound of ecstasy.

“How much did you think about this?”

“So much,” he said huskily as he began to move in her, in time to the music, the sexy, seductive music that helped relax her even more. “Since I met you. Since that time on the Met Life Tower when I saw how beautiful you looked with your ass spread for me. I wanted to then,” he said, holding onto her hip with one hand, dropping the other between her legs to start rubbing her clit.

She nearly screamed in pleasure from the relief. “I could tell you wanted it then,” she managed to say.

“I love being in you,” he said on a moan, and began stroking her clit. He thrust deeper, and at one point he was so far inside her she was sure he might rip her in two, but even through all the strange and new sensations, one feeling remained true—it felt absolutely fantastic to give herself to him like this. She wanted him in every way, and she loved how he wanted her. How he never held back. How he demanded every inch of her body, and then commanded every ounce of her pleasure. And now as he drove deeper into the darkest part of her, she felt as if her body was an instrument, being played by a virtuoso who knew what notes to hit and when. He was hitting them all, and he consumed her. He stroked her throbbing clit until she could feel the crest of an orgasm, that delicious build in her belly and between her legs. She lowered herself further, her face hitting the bed now as she cried out her orgasm alert to the sound of the orchestra building towards the towering crescendo.

She shouted his name as the cymbals crashed at the end of the piece, sending her out in a blaze of sensory glory.

Her sounds of pleasure mingled with his as he stroked her clit furiously and fucked her ass lovingly, bringing out a shattering orgasm that made her feel as if the very world around her had been blasted apart and then stitched back together on her cries. It was bliss, it was sweet agony—it was exquisite, soul-shattering fucking.

Even though somewhere in the dark reaches of her mind, the parts that she’d tried to shut down, she hoped that it was love. That even at its dirtiest and basest, it could be love.