Page 60 of Worth the Risk

His words are like catnip to me. Every nerve ending feels like it’s on high alert, every sensation heightened.

“Don’t stop,” I plead as if that was even an option for either of us at this point.

He hovers over me, the wide couch allowing us plenty of space as he reaches up to grip the back for leverage. He’swatching my every movement, every breath and noise I make, studying me like he’s trying to memorize me.

“You think I could stop?” he grits out through a clenched jaw, his hands reaching for my wrists to pin them over my head. “The world could end and they couldn’t pry me from you.”

I’ve had frenzied sex before.

Drunk, horny, in college when you think you’ve met the hottest guy of your life and you can’t seem to find the light switch as you tumble down your hallway. Whatever half-charming thing he last said to you making you think you’re about to have the most mind-blowing sex of your life. But then… after less than three minutes, you’re left panting in the dark, on your back, disappointed while he rolls over to tell you that it was the best sex he’s ever had in his life.

I’ve even had hot, one-night stand sex with a mysterious stranger I’d been eye-fucking at the club all night.

The kind where you don’t even ask each other’s names and it takes place half in the cab on the way back to his place and the other half in various parts all over his apartment. Where there’s zero expectations and no inhibitions because you’re just going to sneak out once he falls asleep afterward anyway.

But that’s not what this is. Not even close. This is hot, heavy, passionate. The kind of eroticism that people upend seats of government over and destroy lives to experience. That all-consuming kind of passion that feels like it’s going to make me combust from the inside.

I’m defenseless against him. My body completely surrendered to his touch. The sensation continues to build, my eyes rolling back in my head when he chooses to flick his hips upward at the end of one of his strokes.

He adjusts his stance, one of his feet on the floor, his knee on the couch. He still grips my wrists in one hand, pinning themabove my head, his other hand gripping the edge of the back of the couch.

“Look at me.” His voice is gentle. I open my eyes, looking up at him. His eyes meet mine, his hips thrusting in long slow movements, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix every time. “I want to watch,” he murmurs, trailing his lips over my skin, “watch you surrender to me, feel you milk my cock.”

“Yes,” I groan, lifting my head slightly to sink my teeth into his shoulder when he drags himself slowly back out of me.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses, slamming into me harder on his return.

My hands start to tingle, numbness slowly hitting my fingers as he tightens his grip. The control he’s pretending to have starts to slip, his movements growing faster, harder, deeper.

“Austin.” I can barely get his name out, the sound of his belt clinking with his movements echoing with the sound of our panting. This is an image I hope I never forget. His pants hanging off his hips, the deep V of his lower abs more prominent with every forward thrust. His arms and chest flex with the movements, his veins pronounced, threatening to pop through his skin.

“How’s it feel, baby?” He regains some control, leaning forward to kiss me, tilting his hips just right to make me see stars for a second. “You’re taking my cock like a good girl.” His words are still strained. “So much deeper than I expected.”

“S-s-sooo good,” I stutter as his tongue swirls around my nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. “I need— I need to…” I try to say the words, but I can’t form them. Every coherent thought feels as if it’s being fucked out of my body right now.

“You need to come?” he asks, releasing my hands and maneuvering both of my legs up over his shoulders. He grips both of my thighs, one in each hand, pulling me down and ontohis cock over and over as he thrusts his hips forward at the same time. I reach my hand down to touch myself.

“Don’t!” he barks. “Don’t you fucking dare yet.”

I don’t want to risk him stopping so I jerk my hand back. My breasts sway and bounce with our movement, the sound of his flesh slapping against me growing louder. His eyes have gone dark, his movements growing erratic as his head falls forward, a guttural moan erupting from his chest.

He stares down at me like I imagine a wild animal stares at its prey before it attacks. A devious and hungry grin on his face, like he’s seconds away from devouring me. He spreads my thighs farther apart, looking down to where his cock disappears inside me.

“You can come in a minute, but first…” He slows his rhythm again, my orgasm just out of reach only adding to my frustration. “You’re going to let me get a good look at you.”

I’m not shy, even in the bedroom, but this feels so exposed, yet exciting. He spreads my thighs wide, leaning back slightly as he watches himself fuck me, his hips pistoning back and forth slowly, his muscles flexing erotically with every movement.

“I can’t,” I pant, my hands back to toying with my breasts as my legs begin to tremble. I slide one hand down my body, almost within reach when he barks at me again.

“Don’t you dare,” he grimaces.

But even his veiled threats can’t stop me. Watching him fuck me mercilessly while I’m spread open for his pleasure and appreciation is a kink I’ve never known I had.

“Oh, oh, oh.” I try to hold back but I can’t. I whimper. The sounds coming out of me would rival a seasoned porn star. Maybe it’s the five-year anticipation or the fact that I’m so far past the line of professionalism I never thought I’d cross with Austin, but the physical sensations I’m feeling in my body are like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

“You really don’t obey, do you?” He feels me squeezing him, and his eyes roll back in his head but he doesn’t stop. “Fine, but I’m going to watch. Hands flat on the couch.”

I barely get them there in time.

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