Casanova(64)

Especially when he smiled against my mouth as he eased my underwear to the side and his fingertip made contact with my aching clit for real.

Oh. Dear. Fucking. God.

That time I really did whimper, and I couldn’t even hide it. He slid his fingers easily through my wetness and kissed me harder as he slowly eased one finger inside me. I gasped as heat shot through me.

Brett positioned his body against mine and a second finger joined the first. The new position allowed him to place his thumb over my clit and circle it with the rhythm he moved his fingers inside me with.

I ran my hands over his shoulders and dropped my forehead to his bare shoulder. He dipped his face into my neck and kissed as his hand worked some kind of fucking ridiculous magic between my legs.

The pleasure hit me hard and fast. Way before I knew it was coming, way before I could control the buckling of my knees as the quick orgasm shattered through me.

Brett grabbed me with lightning quickness so the one leg I was standing on that was now weak as hell didn’t let me fall. Somehow, through my harsh breathing, I caught his low chuckle.

“Can you stand up now?” he murmured into my ear.

“Shut your face,” I breathed, leaning back against the door.

He stepped back, a sexy smirk on his face, and reached into his pocket. He flipped out his black leather wallet and pulled a small foil square from it. He threw the wallet to the side on the bed, keeping his eyes fixed on me.

Something in his eyes made me take a deep breath in. Need raged in his gaze, and it didn’t soften as he clasped the edge of the foil square between his teeth and reached for his belt. The clink of it unbuckling screamed through the air, and my attention was drawn downward as he dropped his jeans.

Even through his tight, black boxer briefs, I could see the thing I’d felt more than a few times. His cock was long and hard and thick, the thing of freaking porn stars, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted it.

Bad. Really, really bad. That’s how much I wanted it.

Brett ripped open the condom and, after throwing the wrapper toward my bed, dropped his underwear and grabbed his cock. I watched, giving it more attention than I should, as he rolled the rubber down over his shaft and came toward me without even stepping out of his jeans.

I vaguely remembered that I, myself, was still in an awkward state of undress. My bra was still on even if my strap was hanging off my shoulder, my skirt was around my waist, and my panties were scrunched to the side so he could reach my pussy easily.

He grasped my thighs and bent forward a tiny amount. I moaned as he lifted me up and the head of his cock brushed the inside of my thigh.

“Wrap your legs around my waist and sit your pretty little pussy on my cock,” he rasped in my ear.

I gasped as he dug his fingers into my ass. I had no intention of not doing as he said, so I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and reached between our bodies. His cock was hard in my palm, the vein along the side of it throbbing against my skin.

My lips parted as I guided him toward me. His grip tightened on me until the head of his cock brushed over my clit. He was completely still, and as his cock got closer and closer to my wet opening, my heart beat faster, because there was no reason for him to be still—unless I was about to get the fucking of my life.

I slipped my hand up, my heart beating ten to the dozen and rested it against his shoulder.

Brett looked me dead in the eye as he pulled my hips toward him—and me down onto his cock.

My mouth formed a tiny ‘o’ as he buried himself inside me, and he groaned, pushing me fully back against the door. I gripped his shoulders for dear life as he pulled his cock out and thrust it back inside me. The rough hair that dotted his body above his cock rubbed over my sensitive clit with each thrust thanks to the angle, and it took only seconds before I had my head dropped forward onto him once again.

He moved like fucking crazy. His grip on me didn’t let up, not once. Not even as he paused to change the rhythm, teasing me with long, slow thrusts before once again driving into me relentlessly.

Mercy. He was right.

I wanted it.

But I’d be damned if I’d ask him for it.

The buildup of pleasure that continuously trickled through my body was almost unbearable. It grabbed hold of me and refused to let up or get closer to the edge of release. Brett groaned into the side of my neck, and the deep sound rumbled across my skin. The vibrations combined with the way he moved against mine heightened all of my senses until I was beyond hyper-aware of everything.

The way the grooves of the wooden door dug into my back. The heat of his fingers as they seared into my skin. The speed of his hot, ragged breath on my neck. The tightness of my pussy as it clenched around his cock with each thrust.

The slow yet strong build as his relentless pace finally pushed me right to the brink of my orgasm.

And then tipped me over.

My cry was muffled by his shoulder, but my entire body went rigid, my muscles spasming endlessly. He didn’t let up as he groaned out his own pleasure, and only when he had didn’t he still, his cock still buried inside me.

We were a mess of slick skin and ragged breaths, of trembling limbs and racing hearts.

Brett slowly eased his grip off me, lifting me up and pulling himself from me with a tenderness that shocked me. I clenched my muscles as my legs dropped and he wrapped one arm around my waist.

“Well, fuck,” he muttered into my hair.