Page 72 of The Woman with the Wallet

“Yes,” I whimpered. I didn’t care how; I just needed him inside me.

“Or this?” he asked, moving me with him as he sat off the edge of the bed, putting me in his lap but facing away from him.

“Yes,” I moaned, rolling my hips in a circle as his hand moved out toward the nightstand, pulling open the drawer to find a condom before turning me and pressing me back onto the bed again.

“Or like this?” he asked, kneeling at the side of the bed after sliding on the protection, his cock gliding against my pussy again.

“Please,” I cried.

“Please, what, sugar?” he asked, lips twitching, knowing just how desperate I was.

“Please fuck me,” I demanded.

He didn’t need more than that.

His hips shifted.

Then he was surging inside of me, taking every inch of me with one long thrust.

I’d never heard the sound I made just then, something caught between a cry and a moan, as my walls tightened around him.

Miko sucked in a deep breath, his eyes closed for a second, looking for some self-control.

But I didn’t have time to wait for him to find it.

The ache inside only seemed to grow with the fullness of him inside me.

So my hips started to rock, trying to ease the pressure in my core.

Miko’s eyes slid open as he reached down to drag my legs up to his shoulders.

Then he was doing as I asked.

Fucking me.

There was no more teasing, no dragging things out.

He fucked me hard and fast, his forearm anchoring my legs to his chest as he moved, making it too hard for me to move, to meet him thrust for thrust, leaving me completely at his mercy as he drove me up.

“Fuck,” Miko groaned as my walls tightened around his cock. “That’s it, squeeze my cock. Let me feel you come.”

And just like that, I did.

My whole body shuddered as the orgasm crashed through me. Miko fucked me through it, making the climax pull me under over and over each time I thought it might relent.

“Not done with you,” he said after.

He reached for my legs, pulling them down from his shoulders, pressing them together, then cocking them up at a ninety-degree angle on the mattress, making my pussy squeeze tighter around his cock as he started to move again.

This time, not as hard or fast. Just slow, deep thrusts, giving my body a chance to come back down before driving me back up.

Only when I was moaning again did he grab my hips, flipping me onto my belly, then all fours, before slamming back into me.

The new position and the borderline savage way he was fucking me had my fingers fisting the bedsheets, had me leaning down to press my face into them to muffle my cries.

“No,” he growled, reaching out to grab a handful of my hair and yanking me back by it, the sting across my scalp creating a pain/pleasure sensation that had an embarrassing groan escaping me. “I want to hear you,” he said, keeping a tight hold on my hair as he kept fucking me. “That’s it,” he murmured as my cries filled the room, as my walls clenched tight around his cock. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

I hated how much I loved him calling me that, but as the orgasm screamed through my system, all that mattered was how good it felt that he knew just what I needed to hear, that he understood just how I liked to be fucked.

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