Page 56 of Filthy Sweet

That, apparently, does it. Fox tears my panties off, then hovers over me, his eyes burning against my skin as he rubs his erection. I reach out, stroking the curve of his cock with him, feeling his veiny, stiff meat, and Fox shakes from his base, like rolling thunder.

Time slows. He crawls back on top and kisses me, then repositions himself. Our eyes are locked, and he looks determined, all his muscles taut and his brow tight.

Fox gently slides the toy out. I feel empty, incomplete, but then he squirts some lube on his fingers and works me open again. “You ready for me?” he asks and rolls a condom down his shaft with his free hand.

I nod, sweating. “Yes.”

Fox lifts me by the hips, leans back, and pulls me so that I’m on his lap. He’s much stronger than I am, and he easily holds me in place. His hard, curved cock presses between my cheeks, the condom slick, and he moves me so his length rides my rim.

I give myself to him. I wrap my arms around Fox’s shoulders and let him enter me. He moves gently, carefully. He’s thick and so hard that it hurts as first. But the waves of orgasmic pleasure that radiate from my core soothe me, and Fox guides us into a gentle rhythm.

He stretches me, plunging deeper. My lips find his, and I ground myself in the connection of our mouths. Fox is fucking me. I’m grinding my ass down, taking his cock harder and faster, and he’s growling my name and clutching me to him as we kiss.

He drives through my tight rim, and his sheathed crown thuds my tender spot, banging the sensitive, throbbing nerves with each thrust. My cock aches, more desperate for relief with each pump of his hips.

I’m stretched open, vibrating with a pleasure that builds from my core. I claw back from the edge, resisting my climax and gasping for breath as Fox’s sweat drips on me, but every thrust undoes me, and I feel like one massive, raw nerve.

“I’m coming,” I gasp, and the orgasm overtakes me. Fox grunts, slamming into his climax at the same time. My balls are tight and my hole clenches down, but I don’t shoot at first. I’m orgasming harder and harder, the explosion starting somewhere deep inside of me, and only when Fox sinks into his hilt do I finally spray, thick jets coating my face.

“Holy fuck,” Fox grunts. He keeps me in his arms, holding me tight to his chest as his cock pulses in my hole and aftershocks steal my breath.

“Fuck,” I gasp. Semen drips down my face. It’s splattered on my glasses and my beard, and I can taste my release on my lips. “I think I just had my first anal orgasm.”

Fox surprises me by licking my cheek, swiping up semen. “Hot,” he says, then presses a kiss to my lips and swirls his tongue against mine. “You taste good.”

I laugh and kiss him back, my own taste on my lips. “Yeah,” I agree, proud. “I do.”

Chapter Eighteen

Fox

I walk backwith a couple of waters, and Owen is sprawled naked on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. His glasses are off, and his hair is all messed up. I pulled out of him about ten minutes ago, but he’s still flushed, glowing with the heat of whatever just surged between us.

I’ve had a lot of sex, but I’m pretty sure I never enjoyed myself half as much as I just did with Owen.

Shit. That seems… significant.

“Here you go,” I say, handing him a water. I sit on the bed and pull his legs into my lap, and Owen easily slides over.

“Thanks.” He gulps the water, then sets the glass on the nightstand and laughs. “I feel like I started losing my mind at the museum, and I’m only just getting it back now.”

“A good butt plug will do that to you.”

Owen laughs. “And a good fucking.” He covers his face with his hands. “I can’t believe I just walked through the museum like that.”

“Bold. I’m impressed.”

“I am, too. I think.”

“You should be.” I chuckle. “Trust me. I’m not that easy to impress.”

Owen smiles, beaming at me from across the bed, his naked body hot on the soft sheets and pillows, and I wonder how long I’ll smell him there after he’s gone.

And that’s definitely not something I’ve ever thought about.

I don’t know what to do with that. We’re teetering on the edge of something unknown.

“Dinner?” I ask.

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