Page 68 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

It’s a mess down there.

Without prologue, I slide into her, shuddering at the tight, wet heat that surrounds me, gripping me, sucking me in like she’s been waiting all day for this.

I brace one hand against the chair and the other on her hip, holding her in place as I bury myself deeper.

I’m barely two strokes in when she cranes her neck, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Bae?”

My grip tightens at her hip. “What?”

A slow smile crosses her face. “What you mad for?”

I still myself, but my heart gallops along without me, a hundred miles an hour.

“You know why,” I grit. “Turn around.”

“But I wanna knowwwwww…” she whines, her ass wiggling a little, teasing me. Again.

“Turn around and shut the fuck up,” I say, mushing her face lightly. I’m not the least bit surprised when her walls clench around me, but I’m kinda surprised I said it in the first place.

She’s bringing some dark shit out of me.

I think I like it a little too much.

She listens, though. Compliant.

There’s something in it for her.

My dick.

A nut.

I press my chest against her back, pinning her down as I grind deeper, my fingers digging into the flesh at her hips. My teeth find the curve of her shoulder, biting down hard enough to make her gasp.

But it’s not enough.

I wanna see her fucking knuckles turn white. I want her biting her tongue. I want her desperate and clawing and pleading and wanting.

I breathe slow, my strokes deep and punishing. I’m tearing her shit out the frame, and all she can do out here in the middle of this beautiful place, with silhouetted beachgoers passing by the sheer curtains, is discreetly take this dick.

She gasps again, arching into me, meeting every thrust. I feel her submission. Her sacrifice.

It’s still not enough.

I want one more thing.

So I stop and move her hair to the side, gaining access to the back of her neck, where I press a kiss.

Her body tenses, but she doesn’t say a word.

Still shutting the fuck up.

Good girl.

“You alright?”

She shakes her head.

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