“God, I fucking love to watch you come,” he murmurs, and I try to focus on his face, the look of pure lust that’s borderline destructive.
Then he pulls his hand away, and as he holds me in place by my neck, runs his tongue along his fingers, savoring the taste of me while never breaking eye contact.
I don’t have time to react before he suddenly guides me by my neck over to the bed and shoves me down on it, face first. I’m so disoriented from my orgasm that I’m completely helpless and at his mercy. Not that I’m complaining.
His fingers grip the waist of my jeans and underwear, and he starts to yank them down over my body, the fabric still wet as he pulls them off me. He works fast, urgent in his need for me, and I prop myself up on my elbows, glancing at him over my shoulder.
He’s pulling his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it behind him. I take a moment to drink him in, to be slapped in the face with how lucky I am. He’s in such fucking good shape, nothing but lean, hard muscle and smooth tanned skin. The words And With Madness Come the Light are taut across his chest, a constant tie to who he was and who he is.
His eyes catch mine and they shimmer with intensity, his full lips quirking up with a hint of devious smile. He swiftly unzips his jeans, stepping out of them and his boxer briefs. He’s hard as anything, and for whatever reason, his cock is extra intimidating today.
He reaches forward and grabs my hips, yanking me back to the edge of the bed. Hard fingers press into the tender flesh of my ass as he spreads my cheeks wide, his head dipping down.
My god.
A low, throaty groan escapes my lips as he starts licking me over every sensitive part. I swear I’m still throbbing when his tongue pushes inside me, making my eyes roll back in my head.
“You want more, baby?” he whispers harshly, pausing before he runs his tongue allllll the way up between my ass cheeks.
Fucking hell.
“God, yes,” I eke out, my heart hammering in my temples, my lungs constricting as my breath shortens, never having had a chance to recover.
Dex is nothing if not relentless.
In every sense of the word.
He makes quick work of me, licking me out like he’s at a fucking buffet, his appetite insatiable. His tongue is beyond skilled, wide, wet, and hard, and he plays with me as he devours me, making sure I enjoy every fucking second while letting me know how much he’s enjoying it.
It’s not long until I’m coming again, my body practically rising off the mattress. I’m still shaking, pulsing, when he thrusts his cock inside me, driving in deep.
“Fuck!” I scream, my fingers gripping the bed covers, curling around them like a vise as the air is pushed from my lungs. Even though I’m wet as sin and technically still coming, he feels larger than ever, like he’s sinking into every forgotten place inside me.
“Jesus, baby,” he says through a moan as he slowly pulls out and then pushes in again, the grip on my hips deepening. “You’re so fucking tight right now, so fucking tight. I think I’m going to lose my goddamn mind inside you.”
I can only make an incoherent noise. He thrusts back in and then I’m gasping, expanding around him while gripping him at the same time. I try to spread my legs wider to let him in, but he places his palms at my thighs, pushing them together, making me squeeze him tighter.
“Fuck yes,” he murmurs, his voice shaking from the strain. Even his fingers at my hips are starting to tremble as he pushes in and out, pumping as deep into me as he can go.
It feels like he’s reaching me in ways he never has before, like he’s fusing himself to me, branding me, making his mark from the inside out. I can’t say I mind. I can’t say much except that I love this man with my whole body and soul and every single inch of my heart.
He keeps pushing into me, his pace getting faster and faster, the bed starting to jerk from the movement. With a deep, quick thrust he moans loudly, the sound filling the room, and then pauses to lean forward, his hand slipping over my throat. He grips me there for a moment, pulling me back off the bed until I can barely breathe.
His other hand parts my hair from behind, wrapping the long thick strands across my throat then yanking them back, both choking me and pulling my hair at the same time, holding it like reins.
I quickly bring my elbows up to alleviate the pressure on my throat so I don’t pass out from lack of oxygen. As far as the kinky shit goes, I do like being choked during sex from time to time, but he’s always been a little apprehensive about doing it. Today though, well, today he’s in it one hundred percent.
So am I, even when his pace gets faster, the rhythm faster, more relentless, more punishing. I feel like I’m being fucked from behind into oblivion, constantly dancing on the edge of losing consciousness, between that and feeling absolutely everything.
“Jesus, fuck!” Dex cries out, his deep, throaty groan bouncing off the walls. He stiffens for a moment, then slides his hand underneath my stomach, stroking my clit at the last possible moment before he loses all control.
My eyes pinch closed and I come in an instant, my body blasted into the galaxy while he pours himself inside me, his fingers bruising the skin on my waist, his hips thrusting once, twice, before he drives in as deep as he can go. We’re so tightly connected at this moment that I don’t know where he ends and I begin. I barely feel the drops of sweat that sprinkle onto my back, barely hear the shake of his exhale.
All I feel is him inside me.
In the end, he’s all I ever feel.
I’m not sure how long I lie there on my stomach. Dex lets go of my hair, and I’m able to take in deep breaths to calm my heart and put order back into my body. I’m spent in more ways than one.
He leans forward, pressing long kisses all along my spine.
“Better to get dirty before your bath, don’t you think?”
He gives my ass a hard thwack with his palm that stings to high heaven, and then pulls out, leaving me both bereft and breathless.
And completely obsessed with whatever version of ourselves we’ve recently become.
Three
The next day I meet Rebecca for lunch at Barolo, one of our favorite places to get food and catch up, an Italian restaurant that serves the best truffle pasta in the world. It’s an easy walk from the apartment, just enough time to soak in the rare day of sunshine before another week of rain ahead.
When I step inside, the crisp, all-white ambiance of the place has a calming effect and before I can ask the hostess if Rebecca is here, I see her and Lucinda at a booth in the corner.
Lucinda is Rebecca’s nearly three-year-old daughter, and as one would expect with such a cool (in more ways than one) and collected mother, she’s a little angel. Hanging out with her is bound to kick my baby fever up another notch.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” I say to Rebecca, hanging my crossbody purse on the hook and sliding into the seat across from them.
“Not at all,” she says, handing Lucinda her iPad and headphones.
“Hi, Perry,” Lucinda says to me in her sweet sing-song voice. I swear she picks up her mother’s English accent from time to time.
“Hello, Lucinda,” I say with a big smile, taking a moment to gawk at her. She’s such a darling, pretty girl. Because Rebecca is whiter than milk and Lucinda’s father, Dean, is black, she’s got this gorgeous tawny skin tone and curly dark brown hair with these amazing natural highlights. Every time I see her she seems to grow before my eyes, though her round cheeks remain completely squishable.