“I ought to make you wait until we get back just because I can,” I groan. “I just fucking can’t,” I tell her, unzipping my pants. My dick is killing me, dying to get free. My breath is lodged in my chest at just the thought of getting back inside of her. It can’t be as good as I remember. There’s no way that could be possible.
“Skull!” she cries and for a minute I let my mind drift back, back before the pain, the heartache, the distrust. Back to a time when it was just me and her and our bodies. My hands bite into her hips as I pull her out from the wall, pushing her legs apart. I push down on her back—getting her into the position I need.
“Hold on, mi cielo, hold on,” I warn her, grabbing my dick and rubbing my shaft against her pussy, letting it push through her lips and glide in her sweet juices. “You’re so wet and eager for me aren’t you, Beth? Dying for me to fuck you,” I groan, as my tip grazes against her clit. She’s so hot and warm.
“Quit talking about it and just do it already!” she demands.
“Greedy little puta,” her hunger turning me on like nothing else could. I push my cock up, feeling my way by instinct and sliding into her sweet depths. Her walls instantly close in on my cock, sucking him in. I pull back out and then plunge back in, deeper, not stopping until my body is pressed tight against her and her sweet creamy juices are dripping onto my balls.
“You feel so good,” Beth gasps. I reach around, cupping her breasts in my hand as I thrust back into her, grinding myself deep inside. I massage them with my hand, kneading them and working my cock in and out of her. She thrusts back into me, each time I withdraw. We work together in perfect time and I can feel her cunt tightening against me, the muscles fluttering as she nears her climax.
“Skull, baby,” she whimpers and hearing her voice so close to the edge, full of need, nearly destroys me. Emotions that I don’t want to feel right now come close to the surface. I fight to lock them down and instead concentrate on pounding her pussy, on driving myself so deep inside of her she can taste me…on fucking…
One of my hands moves from her breast to her hair and I grab it, fisting it as I fuck her harder.
“Take it, Beth. Take what I give you. God, mujer, you’re so fucking tight…”
“I told you,” she gasps, working my cock like a fucking pro. “I haven’t had anyone but you. It’s been so long…..” she cries as the first ripple of her orgasm starts to take hold. I feel every contraction, every slick, wet, flutter of her walls and when she squeezes tight, trying to choke my dick I know I’m going to blow. I take my hand, grab hers and move both them down the front of her body until I hit her center. I brace my fingers against hers and search out her clit. She cries out my name as our fingers work together to find her clit and move over the swollen, pulsing nub. I work it harder, and faster in tandem with my thrusts.
“Skull! I’m coming!” she screams, as I push our fingers hard against her clit. I make one final thrust deep inside of her, and I can feel my cum jet out rocking me and her with the force of my release.
Mine! My brain cries and as much as I want to fight against it, I know in my soul that she is. She always has been. That’s the thought that keeps echoing in my brain and we both slide to the floor, our pants around our legs like some fucking teenagers too eager to get undressed.
When Skull rolls off of me, I slowly open my eyes. What did we just do? What did I just do? I spread my legs for him like I was in heat. Okay, so I know what I did. I just have no idea what to do now. It was good. It was fucking good. It was definite proof that vibrators are no substitute for the real thing, and Skull is definitely real.
It’s also proof that I’m never going to get this man out of my system.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters, throwing his hand over his face as he lets go. Then he lays on his back, looking up at the ceiling. Regret is thick in his voice, making my stomach turn. Yeah, he’s real alright. Too damned real.
I go to get up, inwardly cursing myself. I’ve gone without a man since that night years ago in Skull’s bed. I’d like to blame my weakness on that. Trouble is, I’d be lying. It’s because it was him. Skull. If this were the movies, the man would be my kryptonite. He always has been.
His big hand grabs my hip, stopping me from standing. It flexes, squeezing me. It sends chills through my body, small electrical currents that travel from the base of my neck and spreads through my body right until it reaches my clit, which should be dead after the workout I just received.
“Kryptonite,” I mutter to myself.