Page 51 of The Playboy

This vision of pure beauty, this level of vulnerability.

And while she took what she wanted, using my dick to build toward her release, I watched. But she didn’t just use my cock; she used my finger while it brushed her clit, used my mouth while it sucked her nipple. And as she swayed over me, she forced the tingles to move through my body. I neared the peak, close to bursting, her pussy trying to milk the cum out of me.

But I wouldn’t let it go.

Not yet.

I waited.

I observed.

I fastened our mouths together.

And the second she began to shudder, I let go.

“Macon!” she shouted against my lips. “Oh my God!”

This was the best feeling in the whole world.

An intense, overpowering crest right before the cum shot through my head, filling the condom with the pure lust I had for this woman.

“Brooklyn,” I roared back. “Fuck me.”

But my orgasm wasn’t the best part.

That was when I got to hear her screams. When I saw her body spasm. When she rode me with uninhibited thrusts, unhinging as she owned the control, in a way that she’d only done with me.

My ears fucking rang from the way she screamed my name.

Again and again.

But that shit was like music, and I could listen to it nonstop.

As she eventually lost her rhythm, too absorbed in pleasure, I took over, heaving my cock upward, emptying myself inside her. I didn’t stop until the final quiver left her body, and I wrapped my arms around her.

Her skin was hot, slightly sweaty.

Sexy as hell.

“Baby, you are so good at that.” I kissed up her neck and across her jaw, tasting the saltiness as it now mixed with the lemon that was already on her skin. “Damn, you can ride some fucking cock.”

She was breathless.

Her hair untamed. Her eyes feral.

But on her lips was a smile. “Can we do that again?”

I chuckled.

Because in every possible way, I’d met my match.

“Yes. We can definitely do that again.”

SIX

Brooklyn

The slightest movement on the mattress, a tug of the blanket, a tightening of his hand on my stomach—all signs that Macon was starting to wake up. The moment he finished stretching, I felt his eyes on me, obviously realizing I was already awake, and he said, “Good morning.”

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