Page 94 of On Cloud Nine

He devoured me. I didn’t think it was possible. He absolutely, positively, in every definition of the word,devouredme. My insides are still scorched from the way he fucked me with his fingers. Then there’s the taste of myself on my own lips, mixing with him.

I’d never had anything like it. Never let myself indulge in an experience that felt so…filthy and yet so right.

“I’m ready.” I inhale as his tip presses at my entrance. My body hums with anticipation, to be taken by him, to give myself over. I want him so much.

His blue eyes are drenched in darkness.

He’s all man. The paint across his chest, the purple above his brow. Matthew’s hair is slicked back with sweat as the tight rods of his muscles envelop me.

He pushes himself into me with such agonizing slowness, I may die from how overwhelmingly large he feels.

“I—” My words catch in my throat. My heart thumps out of my own chest. “You’re—too—thi—”

“We’ll make sure it fits,” he promises and notches in another inch. My heart feels like it might burst. “That’s right, baby.” Matthew brushes his palm over my damp forehead. “You’re going to take this dick like a good girl, aren’t you?”

I am. I do want it. I force the heavy weight of my head into a nod. He’s stretching me beyond my own limits. There’s no way, absolutely no way, I can handle him filling every bit of space inside of me.

But apparently, I’m barely aware of my own limits. Matthew slouches forward, his hands dropping onto the table beside my hips as he thrusts deeper. His gaze is like light across my skin, searing it to life.

“The things you do to me, Molly.Fuck,” he groans against my shoulder, almost in a growl. Hearing him curse may be my most favorite thing in the world.

Apart from his mouth.

And his eyes.

All of him is my favorite.

Matthew takes me. Each stroke is deeper, slower, as if he knows exactly what I need. I drop my eyes to where he and I meet. Softness and hardness. Him and me. It’s everything and more.

I’m wound up past the point of sanity.

There was no guilt, no disappointing huffs when I couldn’t come. It’s like he could spend all the time in the world making me feel good. And I want him to.

“Play with your pretty pussy.” Matthew rests his forehead on mine. His sweat gliding against my skin sets my body into a blaze. “I want to watch you come all over my cock. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” I slide off my forearms. Paint sticks to my skin, but I don’t care. I may be washing the colors off for the next two weeks.

I’m free. Entirely myself again, and only with him.

I keep myself propped on my left arm as my right hand travels below the skirt of my dress. I brush my fingers over my clit, making my bones tremble in my skin.

“Just like that,” Matthew groans. His own hands wrap around my waist as he continues rocking in and out of me. “I know that feels right, doesn’t it?”

I rub myself softly, circulating the pads of my fingers against my clit until my core tenses. As his thrusts pick up pace, so does my rubbing.

“You look so lovely when I fuck you.” His grip on me is rough, manly. I’m on top of the world watching the way he’s claiming me.

I press onto my clit more frantically now. A drop of weight falls to the base of my spine.I’m close.

“I love it when you do that,” I say, not even recognizing my own voice but loving every second of it.

“Good, baby.” The table rocks beneath me, and Matthew starts to fuck, hard, actuallyfuckme. “Because this is the only dick you’ll be taking from now on.” His hands rush down my body, gripping at me so tightly, sending him deeper into my core.

He fucks the spot buried in me with precision, not once changing his tempo or tiring out. It’s blissful, maddening. Mind-melting.

I’ve never had sex like this before, and I never want to have any other kind of sex ever again. That’s final.

“Matthew,” I warn, the crescent of my climax building inside of me.

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