Page 18 of Hot Response
Who was I kidding? There had been no turning back from the moment he stepped into the shop that first day.
“Jesus, you’re so wet. Tight,” he clipped. I hooked my leg over his lower back. “Warm.”
“I need you,” I shamelessly whined.
“Fuck.” He inched in, and my eyes felt like they were about to cross. Never had sex felt this way. Filled and stretched in a way that felt almost like an out-of-body experience. Felt physically and spiritually exactly where I was supposed to be.
“Ron!” I squeaked, and he stilled.
“Did I hurt you?” he gruffly asked. I shook my head.
“No! But I’m going to hurt you if you don’t fuck me,” I strained, my skin slick with sweat. His face slid against mine, so close I felt the stubble of his jaw, the heat of his body. Every breath he drew made my pussy pulsate. The warmth of his lips hovered over the shell of my ear.
“Not fucking you, baby girl. Even when I go hard, take you rough, it’s me loving you,” Ron growled. Before I could think of a sassy response, he pushed inside, taking my breath away. With one quick thrust, Ron filled me. Stretched me. The pain just a bite over the pleasure I felt.
“Jesus,” he cursed, pulling my lobe between his lips. “You feel so fucking good,” he hissed.
“Ronnie,” I cried. “More. Please.” I wasn’t above begging.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he strained. I felt his body tremble as he held back.
“You won’t.” I had more than enough faith in him for the two of us. He slowly started to work in and out of my body. The pace was slow. Almost leisurely. So much, I growled and whined, but he only chuckled.
“My girl’s fucking greedy for her man’s dick, isn’t she?” God, I loved dirty talk. Not that I had experienced a whole lot of that in real life.
Not until Ron.
“So greedy,” I repeated, and the next words easily and genuinely passed my lips, “For you. Greedy for you, Ron. Please.”
“Fuck.” My eyes dropped to his lips. Full and shiny. Wet from my kisses. His hips started to move a little quicker, and when my head dropped back, he picked up speed.
I couldn’t believe this was happening right on my kitchen counter. It was hot and sexy and so damn different than anything I had every experienced in my past.
But then again, I had a feeling my life would be unequivocally changed after this.
I clung to him. My fingernails dug into his muscular shoulders. My legs wrapped around his waist while he thrust in and out of me. My face hid in the crook of his neck. Slight squeaks and moans escaped and mingled with his deep animal-like sounds and the echo of our bodies coming together.
“You feel so good,” he panted in my ear. “You’re going to come for me.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement.
I had no idea how he knew how my body spoke so clearly with him, but it did. He wasn’t wrong. I was close. Heat furled and tension coiled deep inside me as this big swelling feeling grew so out of control, I knew that without having an orgasm yet, Ronnie had ruined me for anyone else.
“Ronnie.”
“Yes,” he strained, nipping at the spot where my shoulder met my neck. “God, your sweet, little pussy’s got a chokehold on my cock,” he rumbled, nipping at my skin, probably leaving a hickey. One I wanted so damn badly.
“Come for me, cupcake.” Somehow, every word out of this man’s mouth got me that much closer. “Give me that honey. Milk my dick,” he urged, pushing forward, and my eyes widened at the feel of him hitting a spot inside of me that had never been touched.
“Ron!” I cried.
“Yes, baby girl. You like that, don’t you? Look at you. You’re so fucking juicy for me.” He wasn’t kidding, either. I could feel my own wetness coating my thighs. The wet squelching sound was almost as obscene as it was erotic.
“Baby!” I cried, holding on, kissing his neck.
“Fuck, you’re tight. You want me to come inside of you, don’t you?”
“Ron!”
