Raging Hard(63)
“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear. “I love to watch you come. Puts fucking fire in my veins.”
“It’s your turn,” I said back, the first coherent words I’d said in awhile.
“Damn right it is.” He pushed me off him and grinned wickedly. “Back on all fours.”
I obeyed, my heart pounding. I wanted to make him come, wanted to make him happy.
He grabbed my hips and pushed his cock back deep inside me. “I’m not going to be nice or gentle. I’m going to fuck you rough and raw until I come deep inside you.”
“Yes, please,” I gasped as he began to fuck me.
He wasn’t lying. He fucked me hard and fast, his savage cock working into my tight pussy. He was an animal needing exactly what I had, his strong body taut and tight, pumping and thrusting. I held on as he worked me, pleasure flying through me, and I wanted to make him come. I wanted to take every drop in my pussy, wanted to make him feel the same orgasm I’d just felt. I worked my hips and moaned, wanting him to come, needing him to come.
His hands were strong on my hips. He slapped my ass, hard, definitely leaving a handprint. I groaned as he fucked me deep and rough, grunting his own pleasure. The savage fucking kept up as he grabbed my hair, grunting in my ear, his cock working deep and hard, our skin covered in sweat.
I knew he was close. I moaned for him, practically begging for his cum. His thrusts were deep and rough, filling me up.
Then I felt him stiffen behind me, grunting. “Fuck, Claire, your fucking pussy,” he groaned as he came deep inside me.
“Come for me, Nate. Fill me up,” I moaned in response, pleasure rolling through me.
His thrusts grew slower but still firm as he fired off every ounce of cum he had left.
Spent, we collapsed together onto the bed. I felt an incredible ache between my legs. I wanted to always feel that, the ache of Nate’s big dick, the great ache of a job well done.
“Shit, girl,” he said. “You really know how to take a dick.”
I felt embarrassed, though I shouldn’t have. “Thanks, I guess.”
He laughed as he pulled off the condom. He wrapped it in tissues and tossed it into the trashcan. I watched him as he stretched, grinning at me. His tattoos dotted his body, and his muscles were incredible.
“Like the view?”
“It’s okay.”
He laughed and got back into bed, wrapping his arms around me. I felt tiny in his embrace.
“Don’t pretend like you’re not panting for it every time I’m around.”
“How can you be so crude even after . . . that?”
“That? You mean even after fucking your inexperienced little pussy like a madman?”
“Yes,” I said, blushing.
“That shit just makes me even more hungry for you.”
I nuzzled myself against him and we fell silent, breathing deeply together and enjoying the post-orgasm buzz. Absently, I began to trace a little image that had been stuck in my mind for the last two days, though I wasn’t sure why. The only thing I was really thinking about was how badly I wanted my stepbrother, and how fucked up that was.
After a minute of making the same image over and over, he grabbed my hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked suddenly.
I looked at him, surprised. “Uh, nothing. Sorry. I can stop if you don’t like that.”
His face softened. “No, that’s not it. What are you drawing?”
I shrugged. “Just some image. A tattoo I saw on one of the guys Dad invited out on his boat.”
He stared at me for a second, something confusing rolling across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Hold on.”
He climbed out of bed, still completely naked. It was like watching a panther climb down from a tree. He left the room as silent as a shadow, and I felt his absence palpably in the bed. But he was back moments later, holding a piece of paper.
“Was this it?” he asked, showing it to me.
Drawn on the paper was the exact tattoo I had seen on Joshua’s arm, the same tattoo I had been tracing on Nate’s skin.
“Yes, that’s it.”
I looked at him, totally confused.
His expression turned dark. “Do you remember their names?”
I nodded. “The one was Joshua, the one I was talking to. The other one was just called Al.”
“Joshua,” he grunted, looking away.
I sat up, slipping my shirt back on. “What’s going on, Nate?”
He was dressing, too, and a second later his perfect body was covered up by his jeans and his T-shirt.
“Sorry, babe. I got to go.”
“Where are you going? What does that tattoo mean?”
He looked at me with a frown. “Shit, I can’t leave you here alone.”