Page 72 of Gilded Fake

A shiver works its way down my spine. Colt feels it, and he traces his fingertips down from the base of my neck to my tailbone. They linger, then slide lower, spreading wide across my ass. He nuzzles my ear and squeezes my soft flesh.

“Is that puddle I left inside you ready to be played in?”

My lids flutter closed, and I nod in assent.

He kisses along my jawline, down the column of my throat, grinding his cock inside me. I can feel the fullness of his girth now starting to harden again, to grow more unyielding, more demanding.

“Can I put a finger in your ass while I fuck you?” he asks, his breath hot on my neck. “I want to feel my cock wrecking your sloppy cunt from every angle.”

“Can you really feel that?”

He pulls my knee up over his hip and then palms my ass again, spreading me open. “See for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes bore into mine. “Dip your finger into that cum-soaked cunt for me, pretty girl.”

“But… You’re still there.”

“And?”

I swallow, then slide a hand down, teasing my clit for a minute before obeying him. I work a finger into my opening, gasping at the stretch of having it inside me at the same time as his cock. I can feel his length, hard and fierce, and my own soft warmth, both us of slick with his cum. I wince at the painful stretch, and a tremor of pleasure goes through me.

Colt’s eyes are blazing. “Is it nice and coated?” he asks, his voice strained.

I nod.

“Now put it in your ass.”

I swallow. “Colt…”

“Butterfly.”

My finger is trembling as I reach back, touching the swollen ring of flesh he tore into last night. It’s still sore and stinging, the skin hot and puffy from being stretched so far.

“Is it in?” he asks, his cock throbbing inside me, thick and hard and ready to obliterate me from the front this time.

I shake my head, and he leans up on his elbow, pushing the blanket down so he can watch. Humiliation burns in my cheeks when he angles my hips so he can see my finger wetting my puckered entrance. But I see the lust blazing in his eyes, the way he wets his lips as he watches, like he’s imagining tasting me again, and it floods my core with heat instead of fear. I know that if I stop, he won’t make me go on. That I have a choice, just like when I choose him. And now, I choose to obey.

I push the tip of my finger past the snug ring of muscle, then pull it out, then in again, wetting it for entrance.

“That’s it, butterfly,” Colt growls, his fingers biting painfully into my flesh, the hot ridge of his cock straining against my walls. “Now be a good girl and push it in deep. Let me see you finger your ass hole while I take care of your juicy little cunt.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I tease, smiling up at him as I ease my finger in all the way.

“Fuck,” he groans, withdrawing and then pushing back inside me with one slow, deep grind. I feel it through the barrier of my own flesh, feel it slide past my finger as he buries it to the hilt, then the twinge of pain in my core as he claims my very depths. An involuntary moan of pure bliss slips from my lips, rolling out into the stillness, echoing into the abyss beyond the truck, whispering under the thick clouds that bear witness.

Colt pumps into my cum-drenched opening, our flesh connecting with an audible, soft slap in the quiet of the night. He fucks me good and deep, adding his finger to mine and driving into me harder and harder, until our bodies are slicked with sweat in the late spring humidity hanging low over us with the incessant buzz of insects. I throw my head back and cry out as I cum, letting my voice join the chorus, my legs pulling him closer, wanting to keep him inside forever.

He bends to find my throat, licking and sucking the sweat from my skin like he can’t get enough as he fills me with his own release. When he finally pulls out, he slides down the blankets and pushes my knees up, then groans, his eyes rolling back. “Goddamn, Lo,” he swears quietly. “That’s the hottest mess I’ve ever seen in my life. Can I take a picture?”

“I don’t really like thinking about how I look,” I admit. “Down there.”

“If you hate it, I’ll delete it.”

“No faces,” I stipulate.

“Just your pretty little pussy,” he agrees, digging his phone from the pocket of his jeans. I hold myself open for him, and he takes one, then holds it up for me to see. My pussy lips are swollen and red from the pounding, slicked with drops of his cum. My hole is filled with creamy white.

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