But as he tries to sit up, I put both hands back on his chest and push him down to the earth again.
“Patience,” I whisper to him. He laughs—probably because he knows the truth as well as I do.
That neither of us can wait a single fucking second longer.
I bend down and kiss him hard, entwining my tongue in his. His hands open and close on my thighs, but he doesn’t force me down on him. Not yet.
He lets me make the final move.
I lift my hips and line up the head of his cock with my pussy. Then I inch down on top of him.
An instant later, he fills me up.
“Oh God,” I gasp involuntarily.
I wind up and down on his length. Hips meeting hips. The friction, pure and beautiful and so fucking intense that I feel it from head to toe.
He holds me tightly in place, but he lets me take the lead. He doesn’t push into me. He just lies there, allowing me to take this at the pace I want.
I move on top of him slowly, taking the time to kiss his lips, his neck, and his chest.
My breasts spill out into his face and his tongue laps at my nipples for a few moments before I put my hands on his chest and start riding him a little faster. Then he throws his head back and groans, a masculine sound that rumbles from him and through me and just takes everything one notch higher.
I press deep onto him. Rise up and slide down again. There’s so much of him to ride on. So much cock parting me, splitting me. And as the first orgasm starts to build up deep in my core, my muscles tremble and give way.
That’s when Artem takes the reins.
He grips my hips and forces me to balance on my knees. Then he starts ramming into me from below. I can feel his balls slap against my ass and I moan, my breasts bouncing wildly.
I don’t care, though. There’s something intensely animalistic about being taken out in the open, under the sky, surrounded by the elements.
But then, there’s something intensely animalistic about just having sex with Artem.
His cock is a fucking weapon and he impales me over and over again, until my cheeks are flushed from exertion and my body is shivering with jolts of my coming orgasm.
I’m moaning so wildly that Phoenix starts to stir in his bassinet.
He smiles indulgently at me. “You might have to be a little quieter, kukolka,” he tells me.
But I can tell he loves what he does to me. How he makes me shred all my inhibitions to pieces.
“I don’t know if I can,” I answer breathlessly. “Not when you’re fucking me like that.”
I say it partly because it’s true.
And partly because I know what it will do to him when I say something like that.
With a hungry glint in his eye, Artem grabs hold of me suddenly and twists me around so that I’m lying on my back and he’s on top of me.
It’s so quick and sudden that it takes my breath away. But I love feeling tiny in his arms. I love him throwing me around and the flex of his muscles under my fingertips.
He hikes my legs up high around his waist and starts pummeling into me with greater and greater force. And of course I start moaning again, louder than before, and I have even less control over them than I ever do.
Artem’s hand clamps down over my mouth.
I squirm against him and try to seize my moans in my throat.
But that only makes the orgasm come faster.