Page 28 of Filthy Rich

Oh, God.

The pleasure goes on and on, as though this one volcanic orgasm is my reward for waiting this long to surrender my V-card. I can’t move. I can’t stop silent screaming as my eyes roll back in my head. I can’t begin to understand what he’s done to me because this can’t be my body. Not behaving like this. He murmurs to me as I grip his hair and ride it out, soothing words that don’t seem quite fully formed and that my ears can’t catch anyway. Something about how sexy I am. How hot. I don’t know what he says. I don’t know what’s happening. I no longer even know how to breathe. I can only feel.

Eventually, some of the sensation begins to recede. He stands again, nimble as a panther climbing a tree, and looms over me, those eyes gleaming and heavy-lidded. He seems proud of himself. He should be. He’s more than earned it. His curved mouth is slick from my juices, his lips swollen. It’s the strangest moment of my life, seeing him like this. Shirt rumpled. Pants undone with his huge, hard dick exposed. His face determined and set. A feverish light in his eyes as he reaches for me. I don’t know how we got here, and I don’t know what happens after this. But if this stolen moment in his bed is the only wild adventure I ever have in my life, then I will die a happy woman.

I reach for him and close my fingers around his penis. He’s quite the handful, hot and ready. Heavy. Vibrant. Straining for me. The whole thing is wondrous. So foreign yet so natural.

I tighten my grip to see if he likes it?—

“Stop,” he says, clamping his hand over mine to keep me still.

“Sorry,” I say, devastated to have blown it already. “I didn’t mean to?—”

A crooked smile from him. “Make me come immediately? You’ve got me on a hair trigger here. Take it easy.”

This information makes me brighten right up. “I do?” I say, experimentally stroking him just to see what he does.

His breath hisses. His face contorts.

Then he flips me over and grabs my hips to raise me on all fours. I’m bracing myself, making sure I have my hands under me when I feel the sharp scrape of his teeth on my ass. I let out a bark of delighted laughter. He rumbles with approval. And the next thing I know, he’s surging inside me, burying himself to the hilt and calling my name with a strangled voice.

A startled moment follows, during which I gasp and try to catch my breath so I can adjust to this strange and exquisite invasion.

There’s no pain. There’s only spiraling pleasure.

He curses and tightens his hold on my hips. Then he begins to move.

It’s a good thing I braced myself, because he fucks me thoroughly, his fingers digging into my flesh and my breasts swinging against the scarf and my half-off bra. My body demands that I swivel my hips in counterpoint to him, demands that I keep up and work him as hard as he’s working me, so that’s what I do. Hell, what do I know? But he seems to like it, his breath stuttering and his rhythm faltering. Then he picks it up again… Harder… Faster… More. The sound of our joint cries fills the room as our bodies slap together. It all builds and builds, the sensations winding tighter and lower inside me until I don’t know what to do with myself. My brain seems to be on an extended lunch break, leaving my body fully in charge.

And that bitch knows what to do. Thank God.

I come again, a bolt of electrical current that spasms through me with a force that’s as much a punishment as it is a reward for hard work. My shouts of ecstasy are ridiculously loud and full of gusto. The kind of thing that would have embarrassed the old Tamsyn of ten minutes ago.

The sound of me coming is all he needs. He stiffens against me and presses his face to the back of my neck with a dark shout of triumph that lets me know I’m more of a woman than I ever thought it was.

And then…silence except for our rasping breath.

I don’t know what happens after that. I think my melted limbs give way, leaving me to collapse face-first on the bed. I hear rustling behind me as he pulls out, and then the uneven padding of his footsteps away from the bed. I guess he’s going to ditch the condom. By then I’ve recovered just enough to roll over before I suffocate myself. And that’s how he finds me when he returns from the bathroom, in my original position on his bed with my semi-naked body levered on my elbows.

He looks the worse for the wear as we stare at each other, with rumpled hair, flushed face, swollen lips and glittering eyes. God only knows what I look like. He doesn’t seem to have fully caught his breath. Neither have I.

He eventually opens his mouth but seems to have a tough time locating his words.

Luckily, some of my common sense kicks in just then.

So… Right. We did what we came here to do. Time for me to get out of here before I get on his nerves or do something more foolish than having wild sex with a man I barely know.

“I should go,” I say, scrambling to my feet before my knees are ready. I do an embarrassing little wobble, causing him to reach out and steady me. But his touch feels awkward now, and I don’t want it. Nor do I want to look him in the eye. Not after that uninhibited wannabe adult film star performance. So I move away and busy myself with finding my panties on the floor while I try to process what just happened. What we just did. Was that the normal intensity level for these things? Because I’ve heard my friends having sex through thin apartment walls, and none of them ever sounded like that.

Hell, I feel as though my entire body is buzzing with adrenaline.

“Don’t freak out and leave,” he says quietly.

“I’m not,” I lie.

“You are. I want you to stay.”

He does? Why does that information make my heart swoop so hard?

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