Page 70 of Fury

Laughing, I raised myself up and brushed a breast across his mouth. “Make me come, baby.”

He licked and nuzzled my nipple, scraping it carefully with his teeth, making my limbs weaken, my insides melt.

“Take my clothes off,” he said, his voice gruff.

My pulse kicked up at the urgency in his command. I moved into action, unzipping his pants, yanking them down his long legs, tugging off his shirt. My hands ran up and down his beautiful, sculpted chest. He found my clit and stroked hard over it as I ground myself against his hand, holding onto his shoulders. The wave built and built inside me.

I wanted to come.

I wanted to come for him.

I wanted to come out the other side and still be me, not some wounded, stiff creature.

He pushed me back on the bed and licked a trail down my body, his eyes on me. “Going down on you.”

“Yes, yes…”

I raised my hips, and his face sank between my legs. He explored me with his tongue, a tight grip on my hips. His hands slid to my inner thighs, pressing them apart, the flat pad of his tongue stroking hard over my clit. The intensity set my every nerve ablaze. There was no escaping his gifts.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I held my breath. I fought with memories, shrill laughs, the sound of liquor dripping to the floor from between my legs, a cold, hard table underneath my bare body.

Finger sat up and, taking his dick in hand, rubbed his thick length over my slick pussy. Up and down. Up and down.

“We’re both so wet, baby. Wet as fuck.”

That insane pressure built over my sensitive flesh, electrifying me. My heart went into overdrive. It couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t keep up. I was coming, coming hard.

He clutched at my leg, his hard length continuing its steady and slow pace along my slit.

“Ahh!” My head twisted back. A thumb passed over my mouth, and I tasted myself on him.

He leaned over me, his voice deep, rough. “Say it, say, ‘I’m wet as fuck for you.’”

I raised my head off the mattress meeting his harsh, gleaming eyes. “I’m wet as fuck for you. For you, Justin.”

His eyes gleamed, his mouth curled into a grin. Satisfaction. Utter lasciviousness. The sensations overtook me, and my head fell back again.

The crinkle of plastic.Rip.

My eyes blinked open, and I grinned. Finger fitted himself with a rubber. He yanked me down to the edge of the mattress and spread my legs wide.

“Hold my hands down,” I said, raising my arms over my head.

His eyes narrowed as he bent over me and did it. I brought my legs up high the way I’d always done with Med. That was his favorite first position of any session. Open to him and his assault. Holding my arms down, he’d enter me on one fierce thrust, and jackhammer away at different angles, then take me from the side, then squash my face into the mattress and take me from behind. Always commenting about my jiggling tits, always asking me questions. A constant stream of chatter.

“You feeling it, Reen? You feeling my cock? Take it deep, Reen, Take it. Take it.”

I wanted Finger to blow that all to bits.

Finger entered me slowly, smoothly, his eyes closing. “Oh damn, baby.” He pulsed long and slow, going deeper with each thrust. “You feel so good. So beautiful. Your cunt is smooth as silk.”

Gilded torture.

Again and again.

“Faster,” I said through gritted teeth, fighting that voice, that body from my mind and soul.

He moved faster. My one leg arched over his hips, clinging to him. We were linked together, the bed shuddering underneath us. Sweat glistened on his chest above me. His thrusts became harsher, his kneading my tits more aggressive. Full possession. This perfect combination of rough and pleasure kept me focused on him, on us.

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