Page 264 of Remy

Fucking her without protection probably wasn’t the best idea if I wanted to play my A game. As if that flawless virgin pussy wasn’t enough. Now I have to deal with heightened sensation and the incredibly smooth glide.

“Fuck, Ollie. You take me so well.”

The oscillation of her sheath is phenomenal. The roll of her ass in my lap a goddamn dream.

“How does it feel?” I swallow over the desert claiming my mouth.

“Amazing.” She guides her lips over mine, the contact frazzling my control.

“Take advantage while you can.” I kiss her hard. Fast. I rock into her as she slowly undulates, each glide of her tight cunt a thrill and a curse. “I can’t keep my hands off you for much longer.”

She whimpers, fucking me like an angel, tempting me like the devil.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Heaven and hell.

Bliss and torment.

“Touch me,” she whispers into my mouth. “I want your hands everywhere.”

The green light has me frantic.

I start yanking my arms from their confinement, my right escaping, my left getting stuck on the buttoned shirtsleeve.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I swing the material around her back, ravaging her mouth as she continues fucking me while I use my free hand to fight the restriction.

I yank. I tug. I pull.

She chuckles into my mouth. “Do you need help?”

“I need you to quit feeling so fucking good because if I don’t get my hands on you soon I’m going to die.”

She rocks her hips a little harder, the taunting minx dragging a hoarse growl from my throat. But I get that goddamn arm free, and then I’m all over her, my fingers undoing her blouse buttons.

“Keep riding me, Ollie. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” I drag my tongue over hers, stroking harder, deeper.

She increases her pace.

“You’re at home on my dick, aren’t you, my pretty little Pyro?” I release the last button and drag my palms up her waist to cup those phenomenal tits. “You were born to ride it. It’s fucking yours.”

She mewls, the needy, feminine sound driving me wilder. She grinds harder.

I drag a palm over her sternum, my fingers touching metal, the contact making me spiral.

She still wears my ring—after everything she’s been through, despite all the suffering and the pain—she still wears my fucking ring.

“You can get rid of this,” I growl.

She breaks the kiss, pulling back with concern.

“I want to put one on your hand.” I glide my finger through the white-gold loop and drag her back to me. “It can be a commitment ring.” I kiss her. “An engagement ring.” I kiss her harder. “Hell, I’d make it a fucking wedding ring if you’d let me. But I want it somewhere everyone can see.”

Her breaths shudder against my lips as she kisses me back, fucking me, shoving me closer to the edge of oblivion.

“Tell me you’ll wear it.” I release the ring and grasp her chin, unable to get enough.

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