Page 110 of Bound to a Killer
His dark chuckle sharpens the throb between my legs. “Yeah, baby. Right here. There’s nobody else, just you and me.”
My ears grow hot, like the rest of me. Every part of me smothering and aching for more. I want to feel him…everywhere. So, I lift myself up, granting him better access, and he peels the denim off, my panties coming down right along with them before they’re discarded somewhere beside us on the blanket.
Spurred on by his urgency, my fingers slip to his own zipper, working fast in a clumsy rush before he pushes it down and I sink back onto him. This time, no fabric barrier between us.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, gripping my waist again, bucking his hips up to meet me. “I’ve dreamt about fucking your hot little cunt for so damn long.” He reaches down between us to fist himself, pumping once, twice, then…“Tell me, baby, have you ever handled cock before?”
“N-No,” I say, gasping my response.
Heat floods my cheeks, more than I thought possible. The brazen way he speaks tightens my core, stretching the tension taut like a snapped wire, anticipation coiling so tight I can feel myself trembling with it. Will he find my inexperience a turn-off?
Should I have lied?
My head swims with dizzying, lust-drenched thoughts, too thick to let shame settle for long, too loud for doubt to root itself before he grunts, thrusting into his fist a final time before reaching for my wrist, guiding it to his hard length. “Go ahead. Touch it.”
Following his order, I wrap my fingers around his shaft, my teeth catching on my bottom lip. He’s thick and warm, strangely smooth, the weight of him heavy in my palm as I stroke him slowly, mimicking the motion he used just moments before.
He sucks in a sharp breath, a string of curses tumbling out with the thrust he pumps into my hand. It gives me a jolt of confidence, so I grip him tighter, my hands working faster over the velvety length now pulsing under my touch, a bead of wetness slicking my fingers when I glide to the tip again.
“Fucking hell,” he hisses.
His brows pinch together, jaw flexing. For a second, he looks in pain.
I pause, my eyes scanning his. “Does it hurt?”
“No, baby. It feels like fucking heaven; if I believed in one, it’d be right here. Right now. But I don’t want to blow my load yet.” He pulls my hand away, dragging me lower until I collapse completely over him, his cock pressing against the soaked juncture between my thighs. I gasp.
Both of us hot, sweaty, and breathless.
His body jolts beneath mine as I bow lower, his rock-hard length pressing against my wet, aching slit. I throb over it, a deep, teeth-gritting pulse of want.
There’s nothing stopping him from slipping inside, no barrier to catch us, and the thought sends a flicker of panic through the blissful haze.
Each near miss ratchets the anticipation higher, my thighs clenching tighter with every ragged grind.
His tongue slips out, licking at the skin on my neck and just below my ear, my body tingling when he says my name. “Relax, Aria, just focus on this feeling. Focus on the way your slick pussy glides so easily against my cock, how we mold into each other so perfectly. Listen to the beautiful sound it makes.”
Another kiss nips at my neck, his tongue flattening before he licks upward, my senses all tuned into the rhythm of our heavy breaths, somehow in sync and not, with the occasional grunt breaking from his throat between the soppy, wet sounds we make.
My head is buried into the tight tendons straining the base of his neck, intoxicated by the unfiltered, heady scent of his sweat, cedarwood and smoke.
“L-Ledge—” I gasp, unable to get out his name. Varying shades of light speckle into my vision, the familiar bloom of release rising fast, right where I’m pressed into his hard length.
His fingers wedge between us, swiping the moisture leaking from me, then rubbing it over my swollen bud. The pressurebuilds to a peak. My thighs burn. It’s happening. Oh, God, it’s happening.
Lost in the escalation, I barely register his finger slipping inside me, the top of his palm grinding against my clit instead as he strokes me deeper.
The intrusion starts to sting when he adds another finger, but by now I’m already barreling headlong into a mind-shattering orgasm. I shout as I cum, unraveling so violently it knocks the breath from my lungs, my own glittering stars bursting behind my eyes.
“Beautiful,” he breathes against my open mouth. “Just like that, so fucking beautiful when you cum.”
Heaving in a ragged breath, he grips his cock, fisting it over my entrance, his other hand still between my legs, fingers buried in my constricting walls, stretching me.
They slip in and out now, slow and agonizing, the rest of his hand grazing over my tender clit, making me jolt. To my surprise, pressure builds again just as he pulls away, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock. He wedges the mushroom head in, slow at first.
Then he grips my hips and drags me down onto him in one harsh thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
I cry out, tears stinging my eyes, the feeling replaced with an overwhelming burn as I writhe, struggling to adjust to the pressure of him inside.
