Page 77 of Kingmakers, Year Two

He pushes his trousers the rest of the way down, kicking them off. His cock stands upright again, impossibly erect. I straddle his lap, balanced up on my knees on the sofa, wondering how in the fuck this is going to work.

“Lower yourself down,” he says. “Go as slow as you need to.”

He positions the head of his cock at my entrance. It’s burning hot, wet with my saliva, but so big that I feel like I’m about to impale myself on a baseball bat.

Miles grips my hips between his hands, helping to steady me.

He kisses me. Then he tilts his head to the side and takes my breast in his mouth. He suckles on my breast, rolling the nipple across his tongue.

My wetness melts down on the head of his cock, helping it slide inside of me. Bit by bit, Miles lowers me down.

I keep waiting for a popping or tearing sensation, but it never comes. I slide down and down what feels like a foot of cock, yet somehow I keep stretching to accommodate it. The feeling isn’t painful—quite the opposite. It’s intensely satisfying. Everything I ever wanted.

At last my ass is all the way down to his thighs, and he’s all the way inside me. I feel full in a way that’s indescribable. I feel whole and complete.

Miles lets go of my breast to kiss me again, his tongue as deep inside my mouth as his cock is deep in my belly.

His mouth has a new, erotic taste, our arousal as palpable a flavor as vanilla or honey. I want to eat his tongue and his lips. I want to consume him whole.

Miles grips my hips and starts to rock me against him. I hadn’t realized we weren’t even moving yet. This new friction is so intense that my mouth breaks away from his because I can’t concentrate on anything except the feeling of his cock sliding a few inches in and out of me. My clit grinds against his body. The combination of sensations, inside and out, is the best thing since peanut butter and jelly. Something so good and so right that all other metaphors pale by comparison.

The feeling inside me is scary intense. It’s so powerful that I know I can’t control it. I’m afraid I’m going to wet myself, or cry, or something even more embarrassing.

“Miles!” I gasp. “I can’t stop!”

“I don’t want you to stop…in fact, I’m telling you not to.”

His powerful hands grip me all the harder, and he rubs me against his body like he’s paper and I’m an eraser. Waves of pleasure radiate out of my navel, thick and hot. The climax buildsand builds, each stroke more pleasurable than the one before. It’s getting too strong, becoming too much. I’m frightened, and yet I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I might be on top, but Miles controls this. And Miles doesn’t stop for anything.

“Oh . . . oh . . . OH MY GOD!” I scream, as the orgasm rips through me.

It’s an explosion. A detonation. A Krakatoa blast.

It’s so intense that I think I might actually have injured myself. There’s no way my ovaries survived that.

Miles just chuckles, his laugh as deep and warm as his voice. I collapse against him, feeling the rumble in his chest vibrating against mine.

“You like that, baby girl?” he says.

The climax hasn’t dampened my arousal whatsoever. Miles ordering me around, Miles calling me baby, is still an intense turn-on.

“What do you want now?” I whisper in his ear.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes,” I say, licking my lips. “Tell me how to please you.”

“Stay right where you are, and ride that cock for me.”

Bracing myself with my hands on his shoulders, I roll my hips, sliding up and down on his cock. It’s awkward at first, but soon I get the rhythm of it. I’m still sensitive and swollen, almost painfully so. As I keep moving and grinding on him, pleasure overtakes the pain, and it feels better and better by the minute.

“You trust me?” Miles says.

“Yes,” I nod.

Miles reaches up with his big hands and closes them around my throat. He does it gently, applying only light, even pressure. Even so, my head begins to swim.

“Keep riding,” he orders.

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