Page 98 of The Foul Out

He settled it behind me and then dropped into it. “Sit,” he commanded, grabbing my hips and pulling me back to him.

I complied, letting him manipulate my body and drape my legs over his. My heels brushed along his calves, my knees positioned on the outside of his. Once he had me where he wanted me, he pushed his thighs apart, separating mine.

“Mmm.” He groaned, his eyes locked on my pussy in the mirror. “Look at you glisten for me.” Sliding a hand down my hip and along the apex of thigh, he tortured me with the softest of touches before finally making contact where I needed him most.

I moaned when he ran those long, tan fingers along my pink flesh. Seeing him, watching this, only made every touch more intense.

For a moment, he stroked me, growling with pleasure as he did. And when his fingers were drenched in my arousal, he sank one deep inside me. His jaw locked in restraint, his dick rock hard against me. But he continued teasing me, prolonging this moment.

“Fuck, you’re going to feel like liquid fire against my cock, baby. I can’t wait to watch those tits bounce while you ride me.” He curled his finger deep inside me as he brushed my clit with his thumb.

“Kyle.” My legs quivered. “I need you.”

“Tell me exactly what you need,” he ordered.

I met his eyes in the mirror. And the burn of desire painted on his face melted any hesitation away. “I need your cock inside me, fucking me deep, while you play with my tits.”

He sucked in a breath, his heart pounding against my back.

“Lean forward,” he commanded, splaying a hand over my abdomen and tipping me just a bit. “Rest your hands above my knees.”

Obediently, I steadied myself with my palms on his thighs. His rock-hard quads pushed back against my palms, the coarse hair tickling. He shifted, slowly removing his finger. Then he lined up his long cock.

I rocked back, transfixed by the image of him sinking into me.

“Harper,” he groaned. “See how we fit? See how good your pussy looks swallowing my cock? It’s like it was made for me.” He slid his hand lower, teasing my clit, letting his fingers brush his dick. “Mine.”

And it was. I was.

As a wave of heat engulfed me, I rocked against him. He met my movements, thrusting up and hitting a spot so deep it felt like he was becoming part of me.

“That’s it, Crabby. Ride me. Use me to make yourself feel good. I need you to come all over my dick.”

When he pinched my nipples, heat flared in my lower stomach, pushing me closer to the edge. The filthy sounds of our bodies slapping, compounded with the sight of our reflection, every damn angle, were all too much.

“I’m so close,” I cried, dropping my head forward.

He pumped faster as he pinched, pulled, and twisted my breast with the perfect pressure. The sensation had my legs quivering. I spiraled higher and higher. Rocking faster. My heart pounding and an inferno blazing. Until finally, in a burst of hot pleasure, I came, pulsing around his cock over and over.

“Yes. That’s it,” he moaned. “Fuck, Harper. You’re like a vise. Holy shit.” He pumped faster, his breaths becoming more ragged. Until he gripped my hips, held me tight to him, and moaned out my name as he came.

He collapsed back in the chair, pulling me with him, breaths sawing in and out of him. His arms wrapped around my waist and his lips pressed to my bare shoulder.

“That was so much better than anything I could have imagined,” he mumbled against my skin.

“Yeah.” I twisted in his arms. The move caused him to slip from me, but I needed to be closer. I tucked my head against his shoulder, letting my nose rest against his neck.

He dropped a hand and pulled one heel from my foot, then the other, letting them fall to the floor in athunk.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Before I could pull back, he lifted and kept me pressed to his body, then strode into the massive bathroom. He set me on what had to be a heated tile floor while he started the shower. In the large space on the other side of the glass, water sprayed from the ceiling and two walls. Once the steam started to billow out into the rest of the room, he tugged my arm and pulled me in.

He grabbed a familiar-looking bottle and squirted a dollop of liquid into his palm.

“You have my shampoo?”

“I was hoping you’d change your mind and spend the night.” He set the bottle on the ledge again and rubbed his hands together. Then he stepped closer and massaged the soapybubbles over my scalp and through my hair. “I wanted to get this right so you’d come back.”

---