Page 81 of The Last Love Story
“Flip over.”
In my hazy, too-close-to-coming state, her words don’t compute. “What?”
“Flip over. I want to ride you.”
Oh, fuck.
Rest in peace me. I’m done for.
“Whatever my wife wants.”
Though it means I have to pull out of her for a second, which sucks until the cool air hits my wet cock, sending a chill up my spine and making me even harder.
I lie down on my back, and she climbs over the top of me, staring down at me like a predator watching their prey.
She drags her teeth over her bottom lip, and I realize that look is less like a predator and their prey and more like a cat with its toy.
I’ll be her toy. I’ll be whatever she wants me to be.
“I might need a little help,” she whispers, grabbing the headboard with her left hand and lifting her hips. “Since my right hand can’t do much.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Hold my hips.”
I instantly grab them, sinking my fingers into her soft flesh.
“Good boy.”
Jesus.
I let out a guttural moan as she slides down my cock.
“Yes, baby. Yes, yes.”
She rolls her hips a few times, barely lifting them, then she smiles. A wicked smile as she lifts her hips again and rides me hard.
“Fuck,” I cry.
Her moans are long and deep as she fucks me like she owns me.
She does. I’m all hers.
Forever. Or as long as she’ll have me.
“Yes, darlin’,” I whine. “Yes, yes…”
“Justin,” she groans.
Holding her hips tighter, I buck into her, matching her strokes.
She throws her head back, crying out as our bodies slam together.
I’m intoxicated, completely lost in her. I barely notice the tingling in my spine or the way my balls tighten.
“That’s it. Come for me. Paint my pussy. Show me I’m yours.”
“Fuck.” My fingers dig into her hips as I cryout her name, my body going taut as I spill inside her. But then she comes again, and the feel of her squeezing my cock sends me even higher, another orgasm pulsing through me. High-pitched moans are all that come out of me as she rides me until we’re both spent.
