Page 126 of Filthy Feck

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As I slid into the bizarre realization that waswantinghim, I released a whimper as I tilted my head so I could get closer.

Fuck, even that wasn’t enough.

I could feel the fire in my veins starting to flicker everywhere, making my heart race and my skin flush.

My hands reached up to cup his face. Without knowing I was doing it, I dragged my fingers through his hair and he immediately jerked back.

For a second, we were both frozen.

Then I remembered.

He didn’t like anyone gripping his hair.

We stared at each other.

Eyes wide open.

And something whispered into my mind:

I will not bend.

I will not break.

That was my mantra.

The truth was—I’d already been broken. I’d already had to bend. That was why I repeated that to myself so often—because it would never happen again. I wouldn’t let it.

But I wasn’t alone.

We were in this together.

We knew what the worst of humanity could do and we were survivors.

Somehow, that laid all our cards on the table. In one fell swoop, we were fully dressed yet totally naked in front of each other.

His nostrils flared as I pushed him back against the couch. Eyes locked on his, I moved slowly, straddling him, giving him time to say no but not stopping until my knees pinned him in place and my pussy found a home above his dick which was hard, despite having pushed one of his triggers.

As we’d done earlier, I rested my forehead on his. “I won’t touch your hair again.”

His hands settled at my hips, the fingers angling downwards so they splayed over my ass cheeks. He didn’t answer me, just instigated another collision of our mouths.

This time, he took charge. Lips locked, tongue drawing mine out to play, his hands tugged down on me to urge me into moving.

Slowly, I began grinding my hips, but a sharp cry escaped me the second the friction centered itself at the top of my sex, and that blast of pleasure had me seeking more.

God, how could I have forgotten that it wasn’t always about pain and misery?

There wasthis.

Joy and need and craving and desire.

There was Conor.

He encompassed it all.

He growled into my mouth as his own pleasure made itself known. I knew it was good because he started to rock back into me until we were humping on the couch like teenagers.

“Can I?” he rumbled against my lips, nipping me there, plucking the tender flesh.


Tags: Serena Akeroyd Erotic