Page 191 of The Last Good Man

The tension only grows, and I begin to think we won’tnotreach the gratifying end.

My hands hold earnestly onto his neck while we kiss with abandon.

He runs his fingers down my thighs and lifts me up until my butt is lined with the vanity countertop before he tucks himself between my legs, reaches inside my skirt, rides it up, and pulls at my panties.

“It hurts,” I say.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs against my lips, pushing my panties down and leaving them around an ankle.

He slides my skirt up all the way and pulls my bare butt closer to the edge, opening me to him.

My skirt will be damaged, but that is hardly a problem now.

He takes me in as I prop myself back on my hands, push my chest out, and have my thighs hitched up on his hips.

He brings his hand to my mouth, slides his thumb between my lips, and watches me suck on it while unzipping his pants and pulling his erection out.

I throb, staring at it. Flesh and blood encased in smooth, veiny skin.

My mouth waters, yet he has different plans, running his hand down, smearing my nipples with the wetness of my mouth, and spreading the rest over my clit.

His hard-on twitches when he brings his hand back to my mouth and makes me suck on his fingers again.

I get a taste of my arousal before I watch him slowly move the same fingers up and down his length.

Flashing a smile, he presses the head of his cock against my opening before cupping my butt, pulling me to him, and entering me to the brim.

The pain is still there, but it hurts less as I’m perfectly wet for him.

“How is it?” he asks quietly, watching himself entering me.

“It feels great,” I say, shaking while trying to support my body.

He reads my eyes.

“If I had a kernel of scruple, I should hand my resignation,” I say.

“Why? Because you have sex in the bathroom with the delivery man?” he says, and we laugh. “You think you’re the only power figure soliciting sex?” he continues, and we chuckle again.

“You just described yourself,” I point out, and he says nothing, looking down again, a smile on his lips, his thumb rubbing hard against my clit, my folds open.

My arms give in, so I lean back on my elbows.

“That’s even better,” he says, massaging my clit and plunging into me, the fire only growing.

Sweat forms at the top of my chest, and warm, wet beads slide down between my breasts.

My hips become his hands’ home as he grips me hard and rams into me.

The pain is gone.

A swirl of tingles threatens to become a hurricane, and a gasp falls from my lips when he unleashes the power of his thrusts on me.

His speed only increases as he nudges me down, drapes my legs over his arms, and fucks me hard.

I do my best not to moan while he grunts quietly, and we both come, having zero remorse.

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