Page 103 of Savage Obsession

“My idiot,” I murmur. “I was just as bad. I should never have let you go.”

“It was my choice, my decision. My fault.”

“I shouldn’t have made you choose.”

“Stop.” His grip tightens ever so slightly. “No more recriminations, no looking back, raking over the past. Whoever was at fault, let it be done with. We’ve a future to build.”

“Can we? Do you really think we can start over?”

“Haven’t we already done that? Laid the foundations, at least.”

“Maybe. Yes, yes, I think we have.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders, letting the blanket fall away. “No more talking…”

His mouth curls under mine. I feel his smile as I shove him back onto the mattress and clamber on top of him.

“Jules, I?—”

“Shh.” I lay one finger across his lips. “Kiss me.”

His fingers tunnel through my hair, and he obliges me, the kiss long, lingering, and deep. It’s me who breaks it, eventually. I shift myself to straddle him.

His palms drift down my back, tracing the outline of my waist, my hips, then settling on my inflamed buttocks.

I wince, but it’s a good sort of pain, the sort that makes my pussy tingle and something inside me clenches. My wetness coats his abdomen as I slide against him. I groan, arousal spiking. “You may need to help me, I’m not used to being in charge…”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing fine.”

“I need you to…”

“You do it, sweetheart.” By way of encouragement, he lifts me by my hips and guides his cock to my entrance. “Take your time. Take all you want.”

I sink onto him, taking the head of his cock inside me, stretching my entrance almost to the point of pain. I wait, holding my position, savouring this moment.

I gaze into his features, his expression contorted in a grimace of arousal and anticipation. Now, it’s my turn to smile. I roll my hips, squeeze my inner muscles, revelling in the power I hold.

“Christ, baby…” His voice is a low snarl, the words barely audible. But he does nothing to force the pace, leaving it to me.

I sink lower, gyrate my hips even more, squeeze harder. “Is this okay?”

“Getting there,” is the answering growl. “Fuck me, Jules…”

“I do plan to.” I sink fully onto him, my scorched bottom at last coming to rest on his thighs. “Aaaah.” I let out a sound between a sigh and a groan.

“You okay?” he asks me.

“No. I’m better than that.” I lean forward to kiss him again; all the while, my body adjusts to his, to being filled, stuffed to overflowing. Balls-deep, his magnificent cock stretches me to my limits, and it feels utterly wonderful. “I love you,” I manage.

“Right back at you, sweetheart.”

I raise my weight again, the pressure on my thighs causing my muscles to burn. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, but he helps me by placing his hands on my waist and taking some of the weight. Not enough to take control, but enough to ease the strain.

We set up a rhythm, long, slow strokes, the sensation heightened by me rolling my hips and clenching my inner walls. Baz does his bit, sliding his hand between us to find my clit, each stroke sending delicious spikes of ecstasy straight to my core.

“Give me your hand,” he instructs me.

I do as he says, and he replaces his fingers with mine. “Rub. Right there.”

I do, and it feels utterly wondrous. I shift my position, seeking the best angle, the most delicious friction.

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