Captured(57)

DEREK





She says my name on an exhalation, and it’s like a prayer.

I’m a total mess, an emotional wreck, overcome by how she feels, how tight she is, how wet and warm and silk-smooth. Her hips move flush against mine, and I stay deep, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, loving the slide of body against body, the way her flesh feels against mine, how the depths of her squeeze my cock, how her walls clench around me. Her eyes never leave mine, at least until she latches onto my shoulder with her teeth and bites down. It’s not a gentle bite — oh, no, she’s got a hunk of my shoulder between her teeth and she’s bearing down, groaning, writhing against me, both hands now on my buttocks and pulling, pulling. Her heels are around my ankles, and now she lifts them, slides them up my calves and thighs, grips the backs of my shoulders with her hands and wraps her legs around my waist. This opens her up for me, and I delve deeper into her. I thrust like this for a few moments, palms planted, hips driving.

And then I need more. I need to go deeper.

I lean forward, into her, resting on her for a split second as I get a hold on her thighs and push them back. I find her ankles and hold onto them. Angle backward to get on my knees between her legs. This stretches my dick downward, but that’s good. Draw this out a bit. She scoots down toward me, and I get the soles of her feet planted in my armpits, splitting her sweet, gorgeous * wide open. Now I’m as deep as I can go, and I hold onto her calves and start moving.

“Play with your tits, Reagan. Lemme watch you.”

She grips her boobs and massages them, then takes her nipples in her fingers and pinches, twists. “Fuck yes, just like this. I love it. You’re so deep, so big.”

“You like my cock?”

She moans through her teeth, then wrenches her eyes open. “God, yes, Derek. I love your cock. So big inside me. It hurts so good.”

I’m moving, sliding in, groaning with each thrust. “Fuck, Reagan. Fuck…so tight. Oh…f*ck.”

“Yes, f*ck me. Please f*ck me. Harder, Derek. I need it more. I need it harder.”

How am I supposed to deny that? I f*ck harder. Drive in hard, pull out soft and slow, and then slam deep, and she gasps at each impact, her mouth wide open, eyes wavering on mine. Each thrust is harder than the last as I near climax, heat burgeoning inside me. Her tits bounce every time my hips slap into her ass, and I’m mesmerized by the way they jiggle and jounce. God, she’s so beautiful. Have I told her that yet?

“God, you’re gorgeous, Reagan.” I say it in time to my thrusts. “So…f*cking…beautiful. So…f*cking…sexy. God, I can’t—I can’t handle how perfect you look, just like that.”

“More.”

“More?” I ask. How can she take more?

She slips her heels over my shoulders so her thighs are flush to my pectorals. “Come here. I can stretch farther.”

I lean over her, slowly stretching out her thigh muscles until her knees are pressed against her chest and I’m so deep it should be impossible, so deep it should be illegal. She takes all of me and asks for more. How is this woman real? But there she is, hair splayed around her face in a halo, blue eyes blazing with need and arousal and satisfaction. She’s a dream, the seductive exotic erotic fantasy of female perfection, everything I could ever have even thought a woman could or should be and then some. I didn’t know it could be like this, didn’t know it could be more than sex, didn’t know it could feel like some part of me has joined with her, beyond the physical, like some tangible corporeal aspect of my soul has merged with hers.

God, that scares the shit out of me. I’m going to freak the f*ck out later, because I just don’t know what to do with this shredding surge of immense emotion, such intensity of feelings beyond the rush of sex, beyond the chemicals and the flesh.

Now, though, I focus on the rhythm of our bodies. On the crush of my shaft sliding so deep, deep, deep into her. The way she accepts it into her and clings to my neck with her thighs in a silent plea for more. I focus on the way she’s watching me without blinking, refusing to look away or miss a single second. I focus on the shiver of her lips, the way her tongue flicks out and tastes the salt sweat on her lower lip. She whimpers, and I drive in. Moans, and I pull out. Shrieks on her exhalation and sobs on her inhalation, which matches the pattern of my driving hips.

I think of some stupid phrase from the couple of times as kids my mom tried to make me go to church: “and they shall become one flesh.” Never made a damn lick of sense to me, my whole life.

Now it does.

My body is hers, and hers is mine. I know exactly what she’s feeling, what she needs and wants. She’s close, and so am I. All the sex I’ve had in my life—and there’s been a lot—I’ve never had a mutual orgasm, never come at the exact same moment as the girl. But now I know, deep down in my soul, that when Reagan and I come, it will be simultaneous.

And it will shatter both of us.





REAGAN





I’m wrapped up around him. Legs clinging to his neck, thighs clutching so hard I think I must be choking him, my hands holding onto his forearms beside my ear, my breath and his matching, lips so close but not touching, eyes locked and unwavering. And god, he’s so deep inside me, filling me so full. Whatever is happening here between us in this clearing is something I’ve never felt before, and that has a thread of panic weaving through my thoughts, but I ignore it, bury it beneath the fervor of my need, the burn of my arousal, the flames of his passion and mine fanned hotter and hotter until all is ablaze, my skin on fire, my core going nova, his cock throbbing, my * clenching so hard I know he feels it, and I know he knows what that means.