Page 16 of The Russian's Innocent Prey
“Move,” she demanded, digging her nails into my shoulders. “Please move. I don’t care if it’s quick; I just need you to move.”
I pulled back and thrust deep, and she wrapped her legs higher around my waist.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you tomorrow.”
“Fuck, the things you say….”
“You like it,” she panted. “I can feel how much you like it.”
She was right.
I fucked her with all the pent-up longing and grief and desperate need I’d been carrying for years. The headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust.
“You’re taking me so well,” I groaned. “So fucking perfect.”
“Harder. Fuck me harder.”
I shifted the angle, and she cried out. “Right there—oh, God, right there—don’t you dare stop—”
“Here?” I hit the spot again.
“Yes! Fuck, yes, right there—I’m so close—”
“Come for me,” I urged. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
“Oh, God! Oh, God, I’m—” She screamed my name as she came, her whole body going rigid, her pussy spasming around me.
The sensation was too much. “Fuck, I’m going to come—”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Come inside me. I want to feel it.”
I buried myself as deep as I could go and came with a groan that seemed to tear itself from my chest.
For a moment, we just lay there, trembling and breathless. Then she kissed me—soft and sweet.
“That was—” she started.
“Yeah,” I agreed, still trying to catch my breath. “Yeah.”
“I want you again,” she whispered against my lips.
“Already? I need a minute to—”
“Then let me help,” she said with a sly smile, and I felt her hand wrap around me.
“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“What a way to go,” she teased.
This time, I pulled out and turned her over, pulling her hips up.
“Oh, God, yes,” she moaned as I pushed back inside her from behind. “This angle—fuck—”
“You like this?” I gripped her hips and fucked her steadily.
“Yes, yes, I love it—God, you’re so deep like this—”
“Touch yourself,” I told her. “I want to feel you come around me again.”
