A night to remember

ALTHEA

One rough hand makes it way south, and I feel my entire body tighten in anticipation. But nothing could have prepared me for the feel of his thumb sliding over my swollen bud. I let out a gasp, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to keep a lid on the effect he’s having on my body.

His forehead meets mine, just as he pulls my trapped lower lip free with a thumb on my chin. His fingers expertly part my folds, a single one probing my entrance. My eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me.”

No woman on earth would be able to defy that command. And he holds my gaze, his face so close his nose touches mine as he sinks one thick digit inside me. I’m drenched, and it’s like a rock into water, my walls clenching around him just like my thighs.

“Oh,” I breathe. It’s invasive and intense, but so, so good.

“I’m going to add another, and you’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?”

The words aren’t even fully processed as I nod frantically.

“Use your words.” The command is spoken with a buttery drawl.

“I’ll take it like a good girl.”

And there’s pressure, pressing against me and pushing past little resistance. My stomach tightens at the first bite of discomfort, but with every slow thrust and twist of his fingers, fire ignites in my core with a force I don’t think would ever be extinguished.

“Please,” I cry, oblivious to what it is I even need. But one curl of his fingers upward, and I’m certain he’s known all along.

The orgasm washes through me with a force that makes my entire body shudder around him.

My mind is nothing but fog, blissfully suspended on cloud 9. I feel the loss of his body heat as he pulls away, and the clink and thwap of his belt being undone has that cooled heat resurging once again.

It’s true.

With a man like him, we’ve probably only just begun. I don’t know how much my body can take, but I’ve never been more eager to find out anything in my life.

He strips bare, till he’s standing at the side of the bed like a monster of muscle and dangerous energy. I can’t think of anything better than being on the receiving end of it all.

Each hand clamps around both my knees, pulling them apart once again as he comes down over me. I didn’t see it, but the weight of his erection pressing against my stomach fills my veins with desire.

And worry.

Because that thing, is going to fit inside me?

His hand comes down over my head, sinking into my hair, “If you need me to stop, you say so.”

His hand reaches down to grasp himself.

The first press of his head against me has my fingers curling into the bed sheet. He drags the large tip back and forth over my clit, till I’m certain I could come again from just that alone. And when he levels himself at my entrance, holding my gaze, damn near daring me to look away, I’m not prepared for the stretch.

The burn at the size of him.

My hands find his shoulders, discomfort marring my expression. He’s attentive with the way he moves, watching my face for what feels better, and what tenses me more. And it takes effort… the tightness in his jaw, and the harsh slant of his brows tells me just how much he’s intentionally holding back.

With his forehead against mine, our breaths entwine. With every slide and dark exhale absorbed into my skin, the ache turns into a desperate pulse. Till I’m pushing at him because it’s all too much.

I come again, into a million little fractures with a desperate cry.

His grunts fill the air, as he buries his face into my neck. The sensitivity of it all leaves me feeling like I’ve been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

Goodness, me.