Page 234 of The Last Good Man

His eyes slide down as I struggle to keep my towel around my body.

“I’m not the resentful type,” he says, bringing his fingers to my towel and untucking it instead of helping me to secure it. “You get your place. And I’m happy if you’re happy,” he says, with a lustful lookon his face.

“Is that so?” I toss at him, no longer focused on the topic.

When his fingers trail over my collarbones and lower, below my navel, goosebumps rise in their wake.

“So you’re making me happy…” I murmur as he leans closer to me and leaves a soft kiss on my neck.

“Mm-hmm,” he says. “Turn around. I’ll show you how happy I can make you.”

He straightens while I set my hands on the counter, my back pressed into his chest. And he brings his hand to the root of my neck, sliding the barstool to the side.

“Perfect,” he says, kneading my breasts and moving my hair to the front so he can draw a trail of kisses down my spine.

I’m sure he wasn’t serious about the apartment. I think it was a tease to get me here. And frankly, I don’t care. I can live without that apartment.

All I want right now is him.

His lips, his heat, his soul.

“Give me a second,” he says before removing his clothes.

Jeans and boxers.

A wall of muscles grows behind me as he presses his frame into me.

“I’ll fuck you slowly,” he murmurs.

His heavy erection stirs against my lower back before he angles my hips and pushes his erection in.

The sensation is amazing.

With him inside me, moving slowly, his hands cupping and squeezing my boobs, his teeth grazing my shoulder, and goosebumps on my skin, it’s a matter of seconds before every nerve ending in my body pulses with pleasure.

A sweet sensation of abandon makes me leanforwardand prop my head onto my arms while he grabs the back of my hair, makes me arch my spine, and enters me at an angle that earnestly rubs my most sensitive spot inside.

The sensation thickens, fueling the pleasure between my legs.

“I love this…” I murmur, and he thrusts deeper, faster.

“I do, too,” he says in a hoarse voice, indicating how serious this is for him.

“I want to see you,” I say, and he stops for a few seconds, pulsing inside me, before leaving my body, nudging me around, kicking the barstool back in place so I can lean on it, lifting my thigh to his hip and entering me again.

My arms are locked around his neck, my eyes pinned on his mouth.

He lowers his head to claim my lips, entering me at the same time.

“I love this even more,” I say.

Leaving bite marks on my neck, he drives his hard-on into me. My head falls back, my arms stretched outover the edge of the counter.

His touch gets harsher, like his thrusts.

I touch his hair before running my nails down his back, one word on my lips.

“Harder… Do it even harder.”

---