Page 18 of Down to Puck

Emerson doesn’t waste any time. He stands, working his own jeans off, stripping down. I glance down my body, staring at the sight. He’s a perfect specimen. If I’d had him years ago, I would never have gotten a B in anatomy. I want to take my time and label each of his muscles.

With my tongue.

He has other ideas as he grabs one of my legs and pulls me to the edge of the bed. I spread them instinctively, wrapping them around his waist. Having his head between my legs was intoxicating and thrilling in equal measure. Having all of him between them is a little scarier than that, but no less addicting.

I want him— all of him— and I tell him so.

“I know you do, Angel,” he purrs. “I can still taste how much you want me. I can still see it glistening on these perfect puffy lips.”

His fingers spread me wide as he rubs the head of his cock against me. He drags it through my lips, wetting the tip with my own arousal. I shudder as he grinds it against my clit, before notching it at my entrance.

“Please,” I beg again. He raises an eyebrow at me, and the words tumble out of my mouth without any more prompting. “Please, fuck me, Emerson. Fuck my virgin pussy.”

He groans at my words, and I join him when his hips shift.

I don’t have any time to get lost in my thoughts because the sensations are overwhelming. My brain calmed after the first orgasm and shut down completely after the second. Now it’s melting, all of me is melting onto his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight Angel,” Emerson says. “So perfect. I’m not going to last long in this sweetness.”

His filthy words are a slap, but a good one. A sharp sting that makes me gasp as he presses into me more. I pull him in closer, dragging him onto me.

“I need more,” I whine.

I’ve never liked the sound of my own voice, but I barely recognize it now. It sounds like someone else begging, pleading, aching for him.

“Easy, girl. Fuck, you’re drawing me in. Can you feel that?” Emerson grunts, bracing himself with his elbows on either side of my head. “You’re milking me in, drawing me deeper.”

I do feel it. I can feel every vein and ridge of his cock as it stretches my tight inner walls. I can feel my body working his cock instinctively, eager for him.

“More,” I pant. “Please. Give me more of your cock, Emerson.”

He swears and shifts his hips more, driving into me with a force that makes me cry out. I can feel him seated fully into me, feel every inch of his body pressed against mine. Skin to skin, nothing but us.

I lock my ankles in the small of his back and pull him in tighter, digging into his back with my nails and scratching him. I need him as close as possible. It’s a feverish, wild thought. Purely primal.

Then he begins to move, his hips rising and falling in slow and steady thrusts that leave me gasping at the peak of each one. I feel like he’s not just fucking my pussy, but my entire body. His mouth finds my throat again, sucking greedily as I roll my hips against him.

“Mine,” he whispers against my skin. “My Angel. My doc. My Yasmín. Mine, mine, mine.”

I can feel the urgency rising in his rhythm, the tempo growing faster. The room echoes with the slap of skin on skin as our bodies collide violently. I deepen my scratches, crying out as his teeth nip at my skin.

“Do it,” I hiss. “Inside. Please, please, please.”

I can’t beg any better than that. The words won’t come, my brain can’t drag them to my tongue. My body begs instead though, my hips moving against his, my lisp seeking his, kissing him with every ounce of passion I have.

“One more,” Emerson says, his voice rough. Demanding. “Come for me again, Angel. I’m not going to stop until I feel you soaking my cock.”

I cry out as one of his hands moves between us, rubbing a tight circle against my clit that immediately brings me crashing over an edge I didn’t know I was standing on. This one hurts even more, but the ache is soothed by the fullness inside me. I bite down deep into the meat of his shoulder, the thick muscle muffling my scream as his hips still.

Emerson shudders, shooting his seed deep into me.

Time freezes as I ride the roughest, longest orgasm of my life. Each time I think it’s ending, fading, his cock throbs inside of me and I’m hit with an aftershock that leaves me sobbing against him. The feelings are too much, too big for my body to contain, but he kisses me through each one.

Finally, minutes — hours? Days? Years? — later, Emerson collapses against me, his head on my breasts. I stroke his hair as I feel him inside me, slowly softening.

“Mine,” Emerson presses a kiss against my skin.

“Yours,” I whisper back, finally finding the word I’ve been searching for since I first saw him.

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