Keiley could feel the familiar, blistering heat surrounding her as Mac’s hand cupped beneath her thigh, lifting her leg until her foot was braced on the wooden frame of the high bed before she felt his c**k pressing against the hot, wet folds of her sex.
“This is the sweetest pu**y in the world,” he groaned behind her as she caught her breath at the pleasure.
He was stretching her, working inside her with slow, heavy movements that had her crying out his name.
“Do you like this, Kei?” Bending over her, his lips moved to her ear as his erection pressed deeper inside her. “Do you feel how tight and hot your pu**y is around me? How sweet and wet you are?”
She could feel. She could feel every inch of his c**k throbbing inside her, stretching her. The broad head parted her flesh, making way for the heavy stalk behind it to fill her. And she could do nothing to hurry him along.
The sheer impact of the submissive position combined with the powerful strength behind her shouldn’t have made her hotter. It did, though. She could feel her juices gathering and flowing, slickening her, easing his way as he drew back until only the broad crest remained within her grip.
A second later he plunged inside her.
Keiley arched, crying out his name, trying to writhe beneath him as the incredible pleasure threatened to explode inside her. She wanted it to explode inside her. The knot of tension gathering in her womb was agonizing, the pleasure of it building until it bordered on pain, until the need to orgasm was ripping through her mind.
“God, I love f**king you,” Mac whispered at her ear. “Feeling you tighten on my dick, your pu**y sucking it inside you and rippling around it like the tightest fist.”
His voice was harsh and guttural, his hands less than gentle as he held her, his h*ps gathering speed, gathering in power. His c**k plunged inside her, worked through the snug tissue, stroked and caressed, burning her with the strength of his passion as her own burned inside her.
She couldn’t handle it. She felt stretched until pleasure and pain combined, until the need for release had her hands fisting in the blankets beneath her.
“Mac, please,” she panted, barely able to breathe.
He was moving deeper now, harder, his breathing a dark rasp behind her as she felt her womb begin to ripple with the warning tremors of orgasm.
“So sweet and hot,” he groaned again, pumping faster. “So tight and sweet.”
Heat surrounded her, pulsed through and around her.
“I love f**king you,” he groaned. “I dream of f**king you. I ache when I’m not f**king you.”
She was crying out for him now, incoherent, lost in a world that centered on his thrusts inside her, his fingers sliding over her hip and delving between her thighs.
The swollen bud of her cl*t pulsed and throbbed as his fingers surrounded it, welcoming the touch as perspiration soaked her flesh and the demand for release pulsed in her veins.
His fingers stroked, his c**k thrust, and within seconds Keiley felt the burn begin exploding throughout her body. First in her clit. An exquisite burning sensation erupted in the tight knot of nerve endings and tore her mind from her body. It echoed into her womb, then into her vagina, then throughout her body as a harder, deeper explosion ripped through her.
She bucked beneath him, trying to scream, trying to escape the intensity, the power of her orgasm until the violence of her pleasure ripped through her mind and sent her senses spinning. Flying. She was flying, lifted and flung into a world of kaleidoscope colors and an ecstasy she never grew used to.
Dimly, she felt the last hard thrusts slam through her before Mac poured his release inside her with a shattered male groan and the feel of his teeth at her shoulder. They were both shaking, shuddering, fighting to find their breath and their senses as he surrounded her with his arms and pulled her fully up onto the bed before stretching out next to her.
15
Keiley drifted in a haze of pleasure, pushing back the niggling little reminder that they had indeed been alone.
“It’s not the same now, is it?” he whispered against her ear, satisfaction and dark knowledge filling his voice. “You know the difference. You feel it. And you miss it.”
Her eyes opened, her gaze immediately caught by the wooden panels that covered the hole left by the shattering of the French doors.
“I can live without it.” Her voice was quiet, reflective. Because she had heard those same words from Mac before they ever left Virginia.
What were they going to do when Jethro left? He couldn’t stay forever. He had a life, his own interests, and one day he would fall in love himself. Where would that leave her then?
“It’s different,” she finally said, her voice low, thoughtful. “But I couldn’t do this again.” She knew that with a certainty. “When Jethro’s gone, it will be over.”
She expected an argument. Instead, she felt the smile on his lips that were pressed against her shoulder.
“When Jethro leaves, it will be over,” he agreed.