Page 11 of She's Like the Wind
His hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat as his other hand ripped the crotch of the bodysuit open, the sound of tearing fabric making me tremble.
His fingers were on my pussy, sliding through my wetness with a sound of approval.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.” His voice was rough with need as he pushed two fingers inside me.
I gasped, arching into him as he worked his fingers in and out of me, his thumb circling my clit with just the right amount of pressure.
My hands clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as pleasure washed over me in waves.
“Gage,” I moaned, my voice breaking as he added a third finger, stretching me wide, fucking me with his hand in a way that made my toes curl.
He pulled his fingers out of me with a wet sound that made me blush even as it turned me on more.
He smeared my juices on my lips and yanked me down for a kiss. My head was spinning.
He lifted me up and tossed me onto the daybed like I weighed nothing.
The silk and lace clung to my skin as I landed, spread out for him like a feast, and he was on me in aninstant, tearing the rest of the bodysuit off with impatience.
I didn’t care that it was a one-of-a-kind bodysuit—and that it cost me well over two hundred dollars. The way it made me feel, made him want me, was worth it.
He undressed, and I watched as he stroked his cock, thick and hard, glistening with precum.
He covered me, his erection insistent against my slit.
He didn’t tease and slammed into me in one brutal thrust, filling me so completely that I cried out, my nails digging into his back as he started to move.
He fucked me hard and fast, his hips slamming into mine with a rhythm that completely ensnared me.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with my moans and his groans of pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” His hands held my hips as he pounded into me, the angle hitting just right to make me see stars. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”
I couldn’t form words anymore—all I could do was cling to him, my body writhing as he fucked me into the velvet.
The pleasure built inside me with every thrust, coiling tighter and tighter until I was on the edge, teetering dangerously close to the brink.
“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. I obeyed without hesitation.
My orgasm hit me like a freight train, shattering meinto a million pieces as pleasure erupted through every nerve in my body.
Gage didn’t stop—he kept moving through it, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his release.
Finally, with a hoarse cry, he came inside me, as his body shuddered against mine.
We collapsed together, a tangled mess of sweat and silk and raw, unbridled lust. His breath was heavy against my neck as he pressed a kiss to my skin, his arms wrapping around me possessively.
I stroked my hand over the coverlet of the daybed, remembering how our bodies entwined on it, silk wrapping around us like a ribbon I never wanted to untie.
I recalled the glass tray's soft clatter on the table, the way his voice cracked when he reached his peak, whispering my name as if it were an intimate confession.
God, I miss that version of him.
I missed the man who looked at me like I was the only woman in the world—the one who made me feel like every inch of my skin was worth worshipping.
Now, the boudoir felt hollow.
I looked around and sighed. The mirrors reflected nothing but the empty space beside me.
