Page 145 of Sinful Like Us
His jaw tightens, gritting back a groan.
My thighs are in his strong grasp, and he thrusts in hard, quick movements. Bursting the nerves along my skin like cracking embers. Slowly each one catches fire to my body, and an orgasm already rips through me.
My spine arches, and I shudder.God.
Fuck.
Ahhh…“Ahh.” I can’t capture that noise, and he covers my mouth.
Sure enough, he was right: I don’t have a good grip. I fall back onto my elbows. Breasts exposed, skirt still on. Panties not even stripped off but pushed aside. It’s the raunchy sex I lust for, and I have the best view. He crashes into me with primal need, his jaw tensed and nose flared, breath mixing with curses.
His cock slides past my cervix—oh God.Lights dance in my vision as he findsthespot of my dreams. And he repeatedly pushes against the nerve-spindling place in rhythmic bliss and skill.
He annihilates me. Body and soul.
I lose time to pleasure. Pleasure to flesh. Until I’m melting under carnal sensations. All sweat and skin and pressured points.
After another wave of euphoria, I can’t hold myself up on my elbows any longer. I collapse to my back, and Thatcher slows, eking out the movement while I climaxagain.
He kisses the inside of my thigh, and still hard, he pulls out. I try to catch my breath.
“Too spent?” he asks.
“Not at…” I pant. “All.” I stare at his erection. He puts on a new condom and finds lube packets in my purse and warms them between his hands. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Curiosity returns tenfold. I wonder how different it’ll feel to have him inside my ass.
He hooks his ankle around a wooden stepstool and slides it over.
“How does this work?” I wonder. “Not the mechanisms of anal, just the position I need to be in.”
“Come here.” He holds my waist, and gently, he brings me down the washer/dyer. My feet touch the stepstool, and I feel so safe here. With him.
Thatcher bites open the packet. “I’ll bend you over, and you’ll brace yourself on the washer. We’re at a good height. Copy?”
“Oui.” I smile, excitement flip-flopping my nerves, and he turns me around. So I face the washer/dryer, and I grab hold to the machine.
With his ankle, he pulls the stepstool back just slightly. I’m sufficiently bent over for him, and I crane my neck over my shoulder. Watching very keenly as he lubes himself, then teases open my hole with his finger. His grip on my ass is protective, caring, and cautious.
He eases his cock in, not far at all, and I don’t have the best view, but it can’t be more than a half an inch. And then he pulls out. Breath caged, I continue to watch. Slowly, he slides in a bit deeper, gradually and carefully expanding me. And with his size, the pressure is…
I wince into my arm.
Excruciating.Like a hammer is being jammed into me.
He stops suddenly, pulled fully out.
“Keep going,” I urge. “I want to feel more.”
“It’s not going to hurt any less.”
I cringe at the idea. Pain doesn’t bring me pleasure, but my fascination isn’t exactly quenched. “Just a few more inches.” I haven’t even taken half of him.
“Hell no.” He snaps off his condom. “This isn’tcuriosity fucked the cat. If it hurts, I stop.”
“Wise words.” I face him, and he’s already lifting me up. My back on the washer, legs over his shoulders as he bends in a lunge—he eats me out with such skill, and I turn my head, seeing him jack himself off.
Yes.
