nuzzling my pussy, but we’re not going there this time. This isn’t about me, it’s about us.
I lift him with one finger under his chin and order him to the bed. “You’re too dressed,” I tell him.
I watch like a greedy bitch as he whips his shirt off, throwing it to the other side of the room. His abs ripple in front of me. His darker skin pulled taut over the dips, signaling every last football workout he’s ever done.
The remnants of his road rash pain me, but he starts on his belt next, and I help him, pulling at it while he works on his zipper. I take a handful of his jeans in my fists and tug down, revealing his tented black boxers.
He kicks his jeans off, and I don’t give him time to stop me. I push him to the bed and crawl over him, arching my body into him until his cock rubs against the apex of my thighs. “Fucking Christ, Kyla.”
I reach under the band of his boxers, running my fingers down his hard shaft. He pumps his dick into my hand at the same time. My panties are soaked, and my core throbs, aching for me to feel him.
I move down his body, kissing his taut stomach. I remove his boxers as I kiss the angle of his Adonis belt, licking up and down the curved surface. I could eat my next meal off here and be one happy lady. The glistening pre-cum on his dick is too much to bear. I reach out, running the tip of my tongue over his slit. He watches everything I do with heightened anticipation. “Now look who’s wearing too much.”
I reach around, unclasping my bra until my breasts fall heavily in front of me. They always feel like they weigh more when I’m turned on, and right now, I’m turned right the fuck on and they’re as heavy as boulders.
Oscar moves his hand lower, cupping my mound. He moves the fabric of my panties aside, fingers trailing over my slit. “Wet for me.”
I’m mesmerized by his touch. I keep still as his fingers play over my clit until he gives me a quick pinch. A startled cry pushes past my lips.
He locks gazes with me. “Are you wet for me?”
“Fuck yes,” I breathe.
He pulls me toward him, and at the last minute when I should be collapsing on top of him, he twists until he’s hovering over me. He grabs the back of my panties with one hand and pulls them down. I lift my hips, so he can drag them down over my ass and past my thighs and calves. His cock bobs between us while he traces his gaze over my skin.
“Touch me,” I pant.
He reaches out, agile fingers plucking at my nipples and smoothing over the swell of my breasts. He leans over, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it until my core burns with need.
“Get inside me,” I plead. He reaches for a drawer at the side of the bed, but I wrap my legs around his hips. “Now.”
Oscar drops his forehead to mine, breathing heavily. “Kyla.”
“I want to feel you,” I tell him.
He groans, the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance. I angle my hips, taking just the tip in, rocking up into him over and over.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slams into me, and I cry out.
My walls close around every last hard ridge. He presses his lips together, staring down at me in awe. “Please move,” I gasp.
He doesn’t need another invitation. He pulls out, sliding back into me, grinding his hips. I press my fingertips into his ass, holding on while he starts a panty-melting rhythm that has me spasming around him in no time.
He rides my climax out and then retreats. Intense pleasure ripples through me as Oscar get a condom out of the drawer, rips the package open, and slides it over his cock. “As much as I loved every second of that, I care about you more.”
He gets back into position, pushing into me with ease, filling me up again as my head falls back onto his pillows. With stroke after stroke, he fucks me into oblivion. I swear the neighbors can hear our loud pants and guttural moans, but I’m unashamed of Oscar Drego. Or who I am when I’m with him. I want every last part of him. The jagged edges. The strong masks. The vulnerable side.