Page 46 of The Chase

He was aware of the quiet around them. The low lighting, from some table lamps around the room. It smelled of wood and leather, expensive. Yes, this was more like what April deserved. He didn’t waste time looking around, the cabin could wait.

Then their mouths connected and there was no more calmness. He devoured her. Smiling into her mouth, she also smiled back at him. They kissed.

He pulled down the rest of her leggings, stepping on the gusset with his foot. Refusing to pull his lips off hers, he pulled his pants down, too. He yanked off the stupid boat shoes then his khakis and briefs with them. She was pulling up her T-shirt and her bra came off, too.

He felt like he’d lost the ability to move in any way that wasn’t like a bull in a china shop. He gripped the backs of her thighs, hiking her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She crossed them behind him, locking her to him.

“Oh yes, Kitten,” he managed to purr in her ear. He smirked when he saw her face and how she was already too far gone to reply. With her braced against the back of the door, it gave him a free hand to grip the base of his cock, and without any further fanfare, he plunged inside her.

She felt complete. The piece she’d been chasing was finally there. She felt full with him in her, he was a big boy. But not just physically, she felt full inside her heart and soul.

She breathed heavily. He was still, after pushing into her, he waited, panting. She felt his heart thumping in his chest. Hers was in her throat. Her body took over and her pussy clamped down on him. She wanted him there forever.

“Oh fuck, so hot, so wet ...” he whispered on an outward breath.

She had been anticipating this all day, all week. Since she’d first laid eyes on him. There was no need for foreplay, there was no need for him to get her warmed up. They were both already there, the days of loaded stares, electric touches. The dry humping incident, the night by the fire… it all came together at this moment.

He held her up, strong and sure. Her back slammed into the wooden door firmly. She’d have a bruise in the morning but she didn’t care. The door rattled in the frame with each thrust. He flicked his hips and the last inch went deep, straight to her core, hitting her G-spot. She shuddered, and her muscles clenched up. She came, like an elastic band snapping as he delivered her to the other side.

“Colt,” she said and her eyes fluttered open. She saw him, right in front of her, with his face clenched up.

“Yes, Kitten, fuck, you squeezed me so good, fucking massaged my cock to pulp...”

He pulled out and lowered her down so her feet touched the floor.

“No... no, stay inside...” she pleaded.

“I’m coming back, Kitten, I’m going to fucking rail you-”

But her knees weren’t working. She slithered down his body, past his groin, and he came down with her. She held onto him, pulling him down.

“I wanted to make it to the bed but,” he groaned, “fuck it.” He settled between her legs right there on the floor.

She lay back and bent her legs as he planted himself on the floor, on his knees. He didn’t even blink about any discomfort, the hardness of the wood. He lightly spanked her needy pussy with his cock head, holding his cock in one fist. He gripped it hard and pumped once, twice. She had to watch. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. He was perfect. “Yes, Colt. Yes,” was all she could utter.

“Yes?” he asked. How could he ask, of course she wanted him. She sought his gaze and found it. She saw his mirth, he was amused. Holding her in a state of desperation. Her neediness for him feeling like a palpable thing. He held her there and reveled in it. And she loved him even more, needed him even more. His confidence, his self assuredness to hold her there, was intoxicating. She loved it and she loved him.

She reached and closed a hand around his. She pulled and he released his, so she could grab his cock and pull him into her. She took his throbbing, weeping head, and put it to her welcoming pussy. She gripped his butt cheeks and pulled him into her. She felt every smooth, fat inch of him. She wanted him to the hilt, to feel the base of him against her. But something stopped him from going further. She cried in frustration until she realized it was his hand. His thumb, flicking her clit. He thrust at the same time as he flicked. She reared up with her hips pushing back against him, timing her thrust to his. They met in the middle. Each of their torsos clenching, their stomach muscles working, each gaining a light sheen of sweat. It didn’t take long. She began to quiver, her pace stuttered. He pushed in extra hard, saving no energy. There was no returning from this, no going back, it was a one way deal, and they both knew it. Her mouth opened and her body shook. Her mind and soul smashed into the physical realm as she cried out loud and came.

Hard.

Long.

Violently.

It hurt from how hard it was.

He roared above her and came, too.

Inside her.

Like an animal, he planted himself as deep as possible, shook and emptied himself into her. She felt every pulse. She knew his cock was shooting deep. Her body welcomed it, sucking him up, thirsty for it.

She lay her head back, now aware of the hardwood floor. Aware of the silence of the room. No sound but her thumping heart and his labored breathing. She felt the cool air against her sweaty skin, the hot slickness between her thighs. Her legs trembled for a moment as an aftershock swept through her.

She released her hands from his firm butt. They were tight from clenching, gripping and pulling him. Had she left marks on his butt cheeks? She wanted to leave marks. She wanted to be as imprinted into him as he was in her. She was aware of her back bone against the wood floor. Would she bruise there, too? She wanted to bruise. She wanted to have marks on her skin to match the ones that he’d made in her heart. The imprint of him that she wanted to tattoo on her skin. She suddenly got it now. The tattoos. A need to declare, to stand and be counted. She formed the idea of getting him tattooed onto her skin somehow…

“Kitten that was... un-fucking-believable,” he rasped out, his voice like sandpaper.

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