ass slipped between my cheeks then, drawing a line from my asshole to my pussy. His fingers slid in with ease, curling against the tender spot of pleasure inside me.
I arched my back, giving him better access as I took him inside my mouth again. When he leaned forward to thrust his fingers in deeper, his cock went deeper, too, and with one last groan, he ripped free from my grasp.
“I’m going to fucking come if you don’t stop,” he said, smacking my ass.
“Why are we stopping, then?” I asked, peering up at him.
He shook his head on a smirk, picking me up and tossing me onto my back again like I weighed absolutely nothing. His knees found the edge of the bed then, and he hiked my ankles up onto his shoulders, pulling my thighs until his cock slid between them.
Makoa lined himself up at my entrance, and then his palms found the bed, and his mouth crashed hot onto mine, and he plunged inside me in one, full-to-the-hilt thrust.
We both exhaled a heavy, lust-filled moan of ecstasy into each other’s mouth at the feeling of being connected. I wrapped my hands around his biceps, holding on for dear life and thanking yoga for the flexibility it took to kiss him while he fucked me with my legs on his shoulders like that.
I also silently thanked Gemma for convincing me to go on birth control in college, since there was absolutely zero chance of us stopping to put a condom on.
“God, you feel so good,” Makoa breathed, rocking his hips out, and in, out, and in. He held one ankle on his shoulder, letting the other fall until I was practically in a split. “So fucking tight.”
I didn’t have it in me to break up his adoration with the fact that any vagina would feel tight to his barbarian of a cock.
Every thought and possible sentence I could form was stolen with his next thrust, anyway, and I surrendered to the feeling, to the way one of his hands held my leg steady on his shoulder and the other dragged through my hair, tugging hard enough to expose my throat for his mouth and take my next breath.
His thrusts were relentless, his kisses punishing, his hands bruising — and I loved every second of it.
When his hands were on me like this, when his teeth broke my flesh, I didn’t have space in my mind to think about how much I cared for him, how much I wanted him, how much it would hurt to lose him at this point. Every new kiss shoved those thoughts further from my mind, and when he reached a hand down between us to rub my clit the way I had when I rode him our first time, thought ceased to exist altogether.
All I could do was feel.
His breath in my ear, whispering for me to come. His teeth on my neck in the next second. His cock, deep inside me, stretching me wide as his fingers rubbed slow, meticulous circles on my clit.
If I knew only one thing about Makoa Kumaka, it was this:
That tank of a man knew how to fuck me.
“Coming,” I managed on a whisper, eyes squeezed tight and muscles spasming as I reached for my climax. I caught it like the fuse of a firework, the burn slow and sizzling at first before it erupted through me in hot sparks, blast after blast, making me shake and writhe with every new wave.
When I creaked open my eyes, Makoa’s were on me, the satisfaction from making me come written all in the honey pools.
I’d barely stopped shaking, barely caught a single breath before Makoa ripped out of me, yanking me up to stand with him. He had his hand wrapped around his cock, and just one glance of his eyes to the floor told me what he wanted.
I dropped to my knees, opening my mouth, eyes cast upward.
And with a groan and a flex, Makoa came, spilling his hot release on my tongue, my neck, the swells of my breasts, the tops of my thighs. He coated me with his desire, and I rolled my fingers in every stream I felt, rubbing it over every inch of me, tongue skating out to taste the bit left on my lips.
“Jesus Christ,” he cursed, falling back onto the bed just as his legs gave out. He still had one hand wrapped around his dick, and his chest heaved with every new