Page 7 of Doctor Mile High
Endless pleasure.
And tomorrow when we wake up, we go back into the world as if we never knew one other.
As if this night never happened at all.
“You belong up there.” His calloused palms drift over my skin, scratching my stomach as he works his way up. He tugs on my nipples again, knowing how much I love it, and it causes me to double over, hiding my face between his neck and shoulder.
“No. Sit up,” he orders. “I want to see every fucking expression as you fuck me.” He uses those oversized hands that have me forgetting how to think, how to breathe, and he encloses them around the back of my neck to yank me backward. “Sit. Up.”
My eyes flutter shut at the demand.
I love being told what to do.
“That’s better,” he snarls, giving my breasts attention again.
He does this to drive me crazy. It’s the only reason he would torture me like this.
“So fucking wet. So tight. I’m going to dream of this pretty pussy for the rest of my life,” he growls as his eyes roll back from how good I feel. “I love how long your hair is. It’s perfect to wrap around my wrist and”—he does as he says, wrapping the ends ofmy hair around his forearm, then uses it to tug me down—“get you right where I want you, Dove.”
He licks my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. “Come for me,” he whispers down my throat, my soul wanting nothing more than to listen and obey.
Part of me is a little ashamed that once he thrusts into me from below, I do listen, and my second orgasm of the night tenses every muscle. I pulsate around his cock, wanting to milk him of every drop.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises, lips parting to catch his breath. “Look at you making my cock shine. I’ve never seen a prettier sight.”
In a move I’m not expecting, he flips me onto my back and drives into me. “I might have to take that back. You look beautiful from every angle.” He lifts a leg onto his shoulder, allowing himself to sink into me further.
Our skin slaps together with every fast thrust he gives me. His hand disappears between my legs and finds my clit with expertise. There isn’t a part of me he’s ignoring. His cock is lodged deep, and he’s applying the right amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves while his other hand is focusing on my left nipple. He’s playing me like a string instrument, focusing on all the spots that have me singing his name.
“Winston,” I say in warning because it’s all too much. “I can’t. I can’t—” I swallow.
“You can. You will. The night has only just begun, Dove. The feeling of you wrapped around me is a dream I plan to get lost in until there’s no time left to enjoy your body.” Silver locks fall across his forehead, beads of sweat dampening the ends.
In another expert maneuver, he flips me onto my stomach, straightens my legs, spanks my ass, then holds onto each globe as he sinks every inch of himself inside me.
“Oh god,” I groan into the mattress, fisting the sheets under me.
He hits a spot that has me seeing stars. It’s too good. It’s too much. I can’t handle it. I try to crawl away from him, needing more and less at the same time.
“Winston, I can’t. Oh god, I feel like…I feel like?—”
He uses my hair to control me, bending me backward until I physically can’t anymore.
“That’s too fucking bad, isn’t it? You’re going to come all over my cock again. And again.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a hard thrust. “And again. Tonight, you’re giving all of yourself to me just like I’m giving all of me to you. This night will be a night you remember forever.” He nibbles on the soft shell of my ear. “You’ll think of me anytime another man gets to have you like this. You’ll wish it were me, you’ll think of me, and that will be the only way you’ll ever be able to come again. I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life. I’m going to make fucking sure of that.” He pushes my head into the mattress, keeping me still so I can’t get away.
My orgasm is building again. With every firm stroke, my pussy memorizes every curve and vein of his cock.
He’s right. I know he is. I’m never going to want anyone else the way I’ve wanted him. The way he touches me, the attention he gives me, the way he’s made me his entire world in such a short amount of time—why wouldn’t I dream of him for the rest of my life? I’m going to have a craving only he can sate, and I’ll never be able to satisfy it again after tonight.
“God, Dove.” He’s frustrated, pressing his chest against my back. “You feel too good. You’re going to make me come.” Winston grabs my right thigh as hard as possible, using me as support to bury himself deeper. “Ah, fuck, oh, Dove. Fuck.” The words are strung together in a mumbled haze, every groan and whimper that escapes him pushing me closer to the edge for the third time.
I love when a man voices his pleasure. There’s nothing hotter to me.
“I don’t want to. Not yet.” He doesn’t sound like he’s talking to me, but himself. “Not yet. Fuck it, I’ll have you again before morning comes.”
I don’t know what it is about the words ‘have you again’—they break me. I come harder than I ever have. Wetness slicks the space where we’re connected, and it’s caused by me. I bury my face into the pillow to silence my loud cry of pleasure as massive waves slam against my nervous system.
“That’s my good girl.” He turns my head to the side, tucking the sweat-soaked hair behind my ear, and growls, “Now. Take. Every. Drop. Of. Me.”
