Page 68 of South of The Skyway

There’d never been a woman I wanted to please as badly as Brexley Snows. Each husky moan. Each twitch of hungry muscles and throb of her needy cunt had me fighting some primal need to cover her in cum. More. She deserved more. There would be times to paint her in my need for her, but this wasn’t one of them.

Breathlessly, she nodded, lifting her chin so that I could take her mouth. Each rock of my hips teased her entrance, heavy cock so thick it was starting to ache.

“Please,” she breathed against me. I nodded, sliding home, setting a steady pace until her body fluttered around me. Slowly, I drug myself away from her entrance, fighting the pulsing in my balls. “Rhyett,” she protested. With a smile, I lowered a hand between us to tease at her clit, relishing the way her body arched below my touch. The way those blues locked on mine, her teeth pinching that pert lower lip. As her thighs constricted on my sides, I smiled, halting the movement. She moaned, bucking against me, needing more and seeking friction. But she wasn’t about to steal this from herself. I intended to serve her a release so shattering she never forgot it.

“Don’t you come yet, Brexley. Not until I say so.”

“What?” she balked, indignant rage simmering in the depth of her gaze.

“You heard me. Trust me.”

“But—”

I cut off her protest with a bruising kiss, relishing in the give and take, in the way she opened for me. Releasing her wrists, I pulled her up with me, sucking a hard, rosy nipple between my lips. Deeper. She whined, arching into me, dropping her head back, and praying my name. “Baby girl, it’s cute you think you’re in control here.” She was. She could have asked about anything of me, and I would have greedily complied. However, there was a challenge in Brexley that needed to be met. “Let me show you what it’s like to be completely at my mercy.”

Lining myself up, I paused, circling that button that would make her detonate. When she nodded, air filling her lungs in short little pants, I smiled. She’d play with me.

“Turn over,” I demanded as I dropped my cock and guided her onto her hands and knees. “Perfect. You’re so perfect.” My fingers trailed down her spine, the opposite hand gripping her hip, sliding down that perky, round ass until I sheathed two fingers in her wet heat.

“Rhyett,” Brexley mewled again. The woman owned me. Each movement. Each heady breath. Each moan. She wrapped her claim tighter around my soul with every rock of her hips, every plea for more. There was pleasure, and there was…this. Thisyielding. This shattering beneath my hands as I took her pleasure.

Running my finger through her soaked entrance and up, I hedged around that perfect, tight, forbidden place, smiling as she whimpered and arched into me. “Has anyone ever taken you here?”

“No,” she cried out, her legs shaking beneath her. My smile broadened. Thank fuck. We’d collided too late in life to claim many firsts, but that was undoubtedly one of them. I ran a finger around that virgin hole, cock twitching. The idea of earning that right was enough to push me over the brink of madness. Some carnal, primal need—to take her, claim her, show her what she was missing—filled my veins.

“So much to show you, beautiful.”

“Rhyett!” It was a plea, that needy edge sharpening. That was an experience for a different time, when she trusted me completely. When I knew her body better than my own. Moving my hand away, I gave her a soft smack on the ass, her gasp coming out hard as I traded my fingers for my swollen cock.

She was so. Damn. Tight. And the sound she made as I fed my cock deeper into her center inch by inch. Fuck, what I would give to hear that moan every day. To watch her respond beneath me. To feel our bodies and souls connect in this feral, desperate bliss.

My pace was punishing as need transcended sense. Hands grazing over her back, her smooth, soft belly, I whispered, “Come, Brexley. Be my good girl, and come on my cock.” She gave that ball-tightening little whimper again. The one that made my heart lurch, dick along with it. “Come on, Brexley,” I breathed, snaking my hand between her legs to stimulate her clit as I demanded, “Now.”

She did. Rapture. Complete and total ecstasy as her body clamped around me, and I fought to keep my pace, fought to see it through and gritted my teeth as my own release tore from me.

Brexley collapsed onto the mattress, burying her face in my pillows with a contented little sigh. I came down, wrapping my arms around her and pulling our sweat-slicked bodies together. Caging her against my chest and thanking the entire freaking universe when she nuzzled me back.

Brexley Snows was mine. She just didn’t know it yet.

* * *

“Good morning, Hotshot.”Her voice was husky with the newness of dawn, fingers tiptoeing across my bicep, down my shoulder. I hummed into her warm, soft touch. Snatching her hand in mine, I brought her fingers to my mouth, pressing kisses across her knuckles.

“Morning, beautiful.”

A breathy little laugh left a feather-light caress across my cheek. “Your voice is sexy in the morning, handsome.”

“You stayed,” I said, grinning as I opened my eyes. The best part of my little RV bedroom was how the light poured in from both sides. The picture windows were illuminating her mussed hair in vivid backlight.

“I did. You’re a cuddler.”

I chuckled, soaking her in. “Guilty.” Her makeup had rubbed off, all but a smudge of mascara vaguely reminiscent of the early 2000s music scene. Her usually pin-straight blonde hair was tangled and swept to one side. She was perfect. Tracing the dimple on her chin, the flat of her lip, an aching kind of warmth filled my chest. There was attraction, and there was…this. This compulsive desire to take care of her. To lift her problems away, to protect and serve and show her everything the world could offer her. I ran my palm down her hair, smoothing out a bit of the chaos before cupping her cheek. Her entire, beautiful face fit against my hand. Leaned up for a kiss. She met me halfway, dragging my lip between her teeth.

“Mmm,” I hummed contentedly. Moved my hands for her still bare torso, groaning when I cupped a breast to find her nipple peaked. With cold or want, I wasn’t sure yet. Perhaps both?

“As fucking fantastic as you feel, I have to go to work, Hotshot.”

“No,” I protested. “Hang out. I promise I’ll keep you occupied.” Wrapping her up in my arms, I pulled her down against me. Warm, delicate hands settled beneath my shoulder and over my chest. Brexley smelled like coffee and sugar, like… “You smell like a marshmallow.”

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