Page 98 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

He kisses my cheek, leaning forward until I can finally feel his hips

connect with mine. The sensation is relaxing at last, and I lay forward

against his warm chest while he strokes in and out of my sex. It’s

intense but manageable, and I melt into the delightful feeling of

having him deep inside of my body.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I whimper.

He takes that as his permission to speed up, the piston-like pumping

of his cock into my core like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Granted,

I’ve had sex before, but it was nothing like this. This is magical and

blurry, the sensation building inside of me fast, and exploding even

faster. I come with ease, tired of his movements so much so that it’s

almost overwhelming.

I’m drenched, and my thighs are warm with my orgasm that he

works through again and again, not stopping for a moment while I

hiss and wince through the wonderful feeling of being fucked by this

man. His body snakes against mine, and I hook my arms around his

shoulders to keep him close.

His movements are becoming more severe, plunging through the

depths of my sex with such power that it’s not possible for either of

us to last much longer. I break again, the sweat-damp on my

forehead while I consume myself with his bliss, the feeling of his

orgasm seconds later that fills me to the brim with his come.

I’m hot, hotter than I would be otherwise in this cold garage, and he’s

even warmer.

His arms rest along my back while he catches my breath, air stolen

out of my lungs after being so overwhelmed with the intensity of

being with him. It’s too much for my mind to handle, so I let the

logistics go and tap back into reality where I want to stay forever,

pressed to Percy’s chest and being held by his lean, muscular arms.

“That was interesting,” he gusts, his cock still jerking inside of me.

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