Page 46 of Taming Liberty

I half expect him to scoff at me.I’minternally scoffing at me. I’m a grown woman, far from inexperienced, but I’m acting like a virgin. I didn’t even act this way when I lost my virginity. Not that I had much of a choice.

“Of course.” He kisses my nose then my lips before he inches inside me, pulling back when he’s halfway deep. Softly, slowly, he pushes back in, but only a few inches, massaging me and kissing me and flooding me with better-than-sex care. Almost like love. Almost.

He tucks his hands beneath my shoulders and pushes himself a little deeper, pulling away from my mouth to rest his forehead on mine.

“You’re so perfect, Lib,” he whispers.

My walls relax, but he expands them each time he gets deeper. It feels so fucking good, my body shakes. I wrap my arms around his back and hug him to me, nuzzling my chin against his shoulder.

“Fuck me, Angel,” I plead into his ear.

I close my eyes as he fills me up completely, a light moan brushing past my lips. He pulls out and thrusts again, deep but gentle. It makes me want him so much more, and I don’t know that I’ll even regret this when it’s over.

I dig my heels into his ass, pulling him into me, and he takes it as permission to increase his pace.

He pulls his hands from under me and uses them to prop himself up, fucking me faster, harder, just enough that my body begs for more.

“God, you feel so good,” he rasps as he bends to kiss me without breaking his rhythm. My hips lift to meet each thrust, and my back arches.

I can feel my orgasm coming with how tightly my core twists. Tiny moans escapes in between my quickening breaths.

So good.

Not just good, perfect.

I’ve never had sex like this before, and somehow, I knew it could be like this. I knewhecould be like this. We never passed into forbidden territory of expressing the desire for sex with each other when we chatted, but I’d told him what I like, always in the context of what I didn’t have.

He knew how sex had been before, with Robert, and he knew how I felt about it. I told him I wished my husband would look at me while he fucked me, treat me like we were making love instead of using me as a toy.

I like to fuck. It feels great. But fucking without passion is overrated. It’s hot and sweaty and scratches an itch, but it’s not the same thing as making love. No one has ever wanted to do that with me before.

Angel’s heavy breaths sound above me, telling he’s close to coming too as stupid tears prick my eyes.

I squeeze them tight so they don’t dare slip out and shake away my thoughts, focusing instead on the sensations bringing my body to life.

Pressure in my core tightens, tightens, tightens, causing me to lift my hips and roll my shoulders into the bed as the orgasm closes in.

Almost there.

So fucking close.

Now.

My pussy spasms and my legs quake as my lips part, and I throw my head back.

“I love you!”

The voice is high and filled with ecstasy, more a moan than anything else. I don’t even realize it belongs to me until Angel stills on top of me.

I spasm around Angel’s cock while coming down from my orgasm, terror swiping up the ecstasy. I open my eyes and see Angel staring at me.

Blood rushes to my cheeks as I shut my eyes and grind my hips against him. He moves inside me, and after several moments, the awkwardness fades away. At least it does for him.

He fucks me harder, rougher, taking what he needs now that I’ve been taken care of.

I open my eyes to watch him as he comes, lines jutting out from the crevice of his closed eyes as his brow furrows. His whole body tenses, and he lets out a low grunt as his cum fills me.

He relaxes like he’s been holding a breath with his whole body, and when his eyes begin to flutter open, I’m terrified of what I might see. Terrified of regret reflecting back at me.

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