Page 81 of About That Night

This is a particular fantasy of mine with her because she has such full and glorious hips. They’re made for a man—me—to hold onto.

At first she’s tentative, trying to prevent herself from fully sitting on my tongue, but once I give her a few flicks of my tongue and show her I’m not in danger of suffocating, she lets go and sinks down on me.

It’s so damn hot that I go at her furiously, wanting every inch of her desire. She’s wet and getting wild, her cries loud and free of restraint. She comes on me again and again, until my mouth is soaked, and her voice is raw and raspy. Then, and only then, do I urge her to shift down, and I get the ultimate pleasure of pushing my cock up inside her tight, slick channel. She’s so damn tight, I swear.

“Baby, you are so fucking tight,” I groan.

She’s also joining in, finding a rhythm to match mine. We’re fucking in total unison, and it’s everything.

“I’m getting so confused,” Chastity says a few seconds later, pushing her hair back out of her face, hips rolling as she grinds herself down on my cock. “Is this fake or real?”

She’s naked, her tits bouncing, my grip on her hips so tight I’m creating red marks on her skin, my cock buried inside her, and she has to ask? I’m going to assume this is her idea of humor.

If I wasn’t so damn turned on, I would laugh. “Were those orgasms fake?”

“No.” She shakes her head vigorously.

I thrust harder. “There’s your answer, then.”

“Oh.”

Slipping a finger between us, I tease at her tight clit.

“Oh.”

I work the rhythms together, cock sliding up into her while I massage her clit.

“Oh.” She suddenly stops moving, and her eyes widen. “Oh, my word. Hank.”

My name is ragged, a desperate plea as she breaks. Her orgasm is beautiful to watch. It’s like I’m watching her discover every last secret of the universe. Her hands trail down, following her jawline, descending until she’s gripping her breasts, all while her hips piston on me.

“That’s it. Take that dick.”

Her pussy is soaking and squeezing me. I watch her in awe, gritting my teeth so I don’t come too soon, knowing that this is it for me. I never want another woman, ever.

I only want Chastity.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chastity

It feels like I’ve forgotten how to breathe, even as I’m dragging out Hank’s name with way too many vowels. Goosebumps are all over me, and I feel dewy and hot and damp as I have the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

There isn’t a vibrator in the world that can make me feel like Hank does. I’m barely aware of what I’m doing as I ride him, the waves of pleasure wracking my body from head to toe. The orgasm seems to shoot out in all directions from my core, and while I understood before why it’s called the cowgirl position, there’s nothing like experiencing it for yourself to grasp the concept fully.

I am grasping him fully.

When I finally return to reality, dropping both of my palms onto his chest as my whole body seems to go limp, I stare down at him in shock.

“That was…”

“Exactly what you needed.” Hank maintains his tight grip on my thighs. “Hang on,” he says. “I’m going hard.”

I’m not sure how he can go any harder, but then I realize what he means when he smoothly flips me onto my back. I barely have time to refocus on him before he is pounding into me. Another first, comprehension going from conceptual to a full understanding. I’m being pounded with a ferocity that hadn’t entered the picture on our one and only night together all those years ago. That had been lazy and slow and delicious.

This is possessive and demanding and fierce. Like I make him lose control of himself.

Which makes me lose control. My head is almost hitting the headboard. The crown of my hair just brushes against the wood with each of his thrusts into me, and I don’t even care. It’s sexy, it’s powerful. His tattoo-covered arms are taut, his pale eyes narrowed with concentration, his shoulders tense.

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