Page 252 of On a Fault Line

“No,” I whine. The single-syllable word is unbelievable even to my own ears and surely to his.

His hands roam over me, grabbing and squeezing, causing a surge of goose bumps to multiply over every surface he touches.

“Tell me you don’t want me to thrust inside your depths and hit your favorite spot.”

I shake my head no adamantly.

Then leaning down, his warm breath right at ear level, he whispers, “Tell me you don’t want to drown my cock in your cum as you detonate around me.”

My teeth dig into my bottom lip, nearly breaking through the sensitive flesh.

Fuck.

With featherlight touches, Collins trails his hands along the path of my hips, against my stomach, and up to my breasts. He gives them a territorial squeeze, forcing me to moan out in ecstasy.

He’s playing dirty, hitting all my favorite erogenous zones.

“Do it,” I half beg.

He groans but doesn’t comply. “I’m going to need a little better than that.”

“Put your hard cock in my pussy, dammit, before I change my mind.”

Releasing my breasts, Collins grips my panties with one hand, while the other hand hoists me up. He pulls the cotton panel to the side to grant him the access he’s been laser focused on probably since he followed me into this restroom.

But even knowing his ultimate plan, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to submit to this man—one last time—and then say my final goodbye.

“Ahhh…” I call out, thrashing my head back and bumping it against the wall.

“Don’t knock yourself out,” he warns. “I need you coherent and awake for this.”

Then with amazing precision and dexterity, he slides his cock into my entrance—just an inch. And he stays there.

“More,” I groan.

I rock my hips.

“Patience. I want to savor this.”

“Now you want to go slow?” I ask, but more as a rhetorical question.

And he laughs.

He fucking laughs!

“My princess is always so full of jokes.”

Then, without warning, Collins pushes forward, plummeting his cock deep into my pussy, stuffing me full.

“F-u-ck,” I whimper, closing my eyes shut.

The pleasure is almost too much to endure while staying coherent, and he’s not even really doing anything.

That’s how good we are when we’re together. And the realization that this will be our last time together makes me sad that it’s done in a place that isn’t that romantic.

Why do I even care?

Thrusting inside of me, Collins picks up speed. His once calculated, small movements become uninhibited and wild.

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