50
“Hurry, Dillon,” I pant, holding up my hair so he can unbutton the back of my dress. A trickle of sweat rolls between my breasts, and my skin is a little clammy. We couldn’t find a taxi, so we ran all the way back to my apartment, both of us anxious to be together.
“I’m trying. Could you have made these buttons any smaller?” He curses, and I giggle. “Done,” he adds a few seconds later.
Wiggling out of the dress, I let it pool at my ankles before turning to face him in just my blue lace thong and my silver Louboutin sandals.
“Fuck. Look at you.” His eyes rake up and down my body, and I can almost feel the sensual caress. “We need to capture this moment.” Kneeling in front of his duffel bag, he pulls out his phone. “Can I take a photo?”
I chew on the inside of my mouth, not sure if this is a good idea.
“I promise I won’t show it to anyone. This is just for me.” He reassures me, flashing me one of his infamous panty-melting grins, and I’m a goner. “Ammo for the spank bank,” he adds. Cupping his crotch, he strokes his hard-on over his pants.
Jeez. As if a girl could resist. “Okay, but from the neck down.” I don’t want my face shown in case it ever ends up in the wrong hands.
He snaps a pic, drops his cell on top of his bag, and closes the distance between us. Leaning down, he plants a row of drugging kisses along my jawline and my neck. He tweaks my nipples, hardening them instantly. “You looked like Hollywood royalty at the ball,” he says, bending his head to suck my nipple into his mouth. “Tonight, you’re my queen.” I’m guessing his use of queen over princess is on purpose, and his thoughtfulness only makes me crave him more.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I complain, pushing his shoulders. “Strip for me, baby.”
He levels me with a devilish glint in his eyes. “Undress me.” Standing up straight, he stares at me, challenging me with a heated look, waiting for me to make the next move.
“Gladly,” I purr, slipping the jacket off his shoulders and tossing it on the back of the chair. Next, his shirt and bow tie come off, and I take my time exploring the dips and curves of his abs, the broad expanse of his chest, and the defined muscles in his biceps and arms.
My fingers trail over the ink covering both his arms, skimming across Celtic symbols, skulls, crosses, roses, and knives. Musical notes and song lyrics are inked across his chest. Walking around him, I examine the scorpion on his back. He jumps when my fingers move along the intricate drawing. “This is gorgeous. Does it have any special significance?”
He shrugs, but his muscles seem tight until I start pressing kisses into his back, kneading the corded knots in his shoulders, easing the tension I find there.
“The scorpion represents a lot of things that have meaning to me,” he says after a few beats.
“Like what?” I trail my fingers around to his front and slowly open his pants. His erection brushes against my hand as I work the zipper down.
“Determination, rebirth, resilience.”
“I like it,” I whisper, moving around to his front. “I love all your ink.” Tugging his pants down along with his boxers, I kneel in front of his straining cock with saliva pooling in my mouth. “That’s not all I love,” I tease, grinning up at him.
“You look good on your knees.” Grabbing my head, he guides me toward his dick.
I lick the precum crowning his tip as he fondles my breasts with his free hand. Slowly, I take him into my mouth, sliding my lips up and down his velvety-soft length.
“Touch yourself,” he demands, thrusting into my mouth in slow, measured strokes.
My hand trails down my body, and I slip my fingers into my panties, circling my swollen clit and moaning around his cock.
“Push two fingers into yourself,” he directs, and I do as he says. “Work them faster.”
“Fuck, yeah.” He thrusts more forcefully into my mouth as I finger myself, growing wetter by the second.
“Enough,” he commands after a few minutes, withdrawing from my mouth. “I want to come in your pussy after I eat you out.”
Throwing me back on my bed, he shreds my thong with his teeth, and it’s so fucking hot I almost come instantly. Parting my thighs, he dives in, feasting on my pussy, using his magical tongue and fingers, until I’m shattering against his mouth and he’s dry humping the comforter. Ripping the foil packet open, he slowly and carefully rolls a condom down his length. “Are you still okay with this?” He checks one final time.
“Yes. Hell yes. Fuck me, Dillon. Do it now.”
“It would be my pleasure, Hollywood.” He runs his hands up and down my legs as he situates himself between my thighs. Throwing my legs over his shoulders, he dips two digits inside me, coating his fingers in my juices, before bringing them to his mouth. “Tasty.” He winks, and it shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.
Guiding his cock to my entrance, he pushes inside me in one fluid thrust, shoving his dick in to the max. “Jesus, you’re so tight.” He holds himself still, letting us both adjust. Muscles bunch in his abs, and his shoulders are rigid with the exertion involved in restraining himself. After a few seconds, he leans down, claiming my lips in a hard demanding kiss, as he starts to rock inside me.
Stars explode behind my eyes as he fucks me, and the feel of his piercing is unlike anything I’ve felt. It drags across my insides in the most blissful manner, heightening my pleasure. When he slams inside me, pushing to the hilt, I scream as the most intense sensation whips through me. Every thrust is like a mini orgasm, and I’m clinging to him, writhing and moaning, spewing curses and begging him to go harder.