Page 58 of Without Apology

“Kiss me,” I pleaded and watched a smile transform his face. He might be hot when he was stoic, but when he looked happy, he was gorgeous.

He teased me. The sweet and tangy essence of me was fresh on his lips. I wanted more, hooking my arm around his neck and pulling him into a deep, erotic kiss. But if I’d thought for a moment I was taking control, he quickly dispelled the notion by inserting a finger deep inside of me.

I gasped with the welcome intrusion and felt him stretch me with another digit.

“Are you sore?”

“Not too bad.”

“Good.” He took my mouth again, his magic fingers bringing me to the edge before they suddenly departed. I was about to protest, but it died on my lips when he stood, shedding his boxers.

Holy hell. His uncut length was gorgeous. I moved up to my knees, wanting—no, needing—to taste him. The surprise flickered in his eyes when I took a hold of him.

“I need to taste you, too.”

As if by my command, a drop of pre-cum appeared on his tip. My tongue swiped over it before I sucked only his crown into my mouth. The salty taste made me want more. I gripped at his base, moving my hand up, pumping him slowly, watching his expression morph into sheer pleasure. I loved knowing it was my touch that was driving him to the point of losing control once again.

“Christ, Peyton.”

“Feel good?” I took him deeper, enjoying how it was his turn to lose his breath with the movement.

“Yes. But lie back.” He pulled away and went to the nightstand where he retrieved a condom.

I was a bit disappointed I wouldn’t get to finish the blow job but anxious enough to have him back inside of me that it quickly dissipated.

He encased himself quickly before coming back to the end of the bed and crawling onto the mattress. His hands trailed up my body before he consumed me with another kiss, one that sucked my breath and escalated my heartbeat, while he spread my legs to accommodate the width of his hips.

Then there was pressure at my opening. He pressed into me. Stretching me deliciously with every inch he went deeper.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered, taking me to root.

My back arched; I loved how he filled me completely and wanted him to move. But like everything Simon, he took his time. Two long thrusts followed by a few short ones. Then a rotation of his hips, grinding himself to me and hitting a spot few others had managed. I was building. Climbing towards another orgasm as he increased his cadence. My eyes squeezed shut, and I let the desire wash over me.

His hands framed my face, forcing me to open my eyes and look into the depths of his. Then he uttered the words I swore were a trigger for release. “I want to watch you come apart. Let me see it and keep those eyes open.”

Boom. Detonated. During which it was tough not to squeeze my eyes shut. Yet the intimacy ratcheted up, and I watched as he lost himself much the same, pumping out his orgasm before taking my lips in a carnal kiss that would forever stay etched in my memory.

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