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“I’m so close,” I moaned, grinding myself against his hand.
“So bloody tight. So hot,” he murmured, increasing the pressure of his tongue as though he was devouring my pussy, and thrust harder with his fingers.
Just as I felt myself about to explode, Brand withdrew his hand and backed away, but he kissed the flesh on the inside of my thighs.
“Why…did…you…stop?” My words were stuttered, whiny.
Without answering, he stood, lifted me in his arms, and carried me into the bedroom. After gently setting me against the pillows, I watched his clothes, piece by piece, land on the floor. I let my eyes drift down his length, longing to lick the lines of his rock-hard abs and trail my lips down to his erect cock when it jutted out, finally released from the confines of his trousers.
It had been long enough since I’d last had sex that I momentarily worried whether his length would be too much for me.
He stroked himself, and I ran my tongue over my lips at the same time he pushed my legs apart and settled between my thighs. He ripped the foil of a condom I had no idea he had in his hand and rolled it over himself.
“Tell me what you want, Butterfly,” he said, nudging his cock at my entrance.
“Fuck me, Brand.”
He raised a brow and didn’t move.
“I’m begging you to fuck me. I need you. God, I’ve needed you forever.” I worried I’d gone too far, said too much, but when Brand guided himself inside, stretching me, I could no longer think.
“You feel so good. So perfect. Just like I imagined.”
“Did you?”
“Every moment of every day,” he responded, pushing deeper until he could go no farther. I tried to move, but he stilled me and gazed into my eyes. “I can’t be gentle.”
I dug my fingernails into his shoulders. “I don’t want you to be.”
“Are you asking? Are you begging me to take you hard and fast?”
Before I could answer, he pulled back so the tip of his cock rested at my entrance, then plunged back in with a deep thrust.
“Breathe, Butterfly.”
I exhaled the air I hadn’t realized I was holding in when his hands clamped my hips and he slid slowly out, then thrust back in again. He did this enough times in a row that I was right back on the edge.
“Make me come. Please. I’m begging you.”
The frenzy from earlier returned, and Brand let loose, holding me to him as he repeatedly slammed into me. His eyes burned into mine as we both teetered on the precipice. He thrust twice more, squeezed my clit between his fingers, and I shattered, contracting around his cock with my pussy until he threw his head back and pulsed inside me.
“Please, Brand,” I pleaded, knowing if he moved at all, I’d explode with another orgasm.
He rotated his hips, and I rode the crashing waves of pleasure that seemed never-ending. When I floated back to earth, I opened my eyes and looked into his.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m going to paint you like this. Your head thrown back in ecstasy, dew on your flushed skin, my name on your lips,” he murmured.
I was far from a prude, but I’d never considered allowing someone to paint me in the nude, let alone right after I came.
“You like that idea,” he said when another gush of wetness drenched him and I squeezed his cock.
“I do.”
“You’ll have to beg, you know.”
I would. I would do anything, say anything, promise anything if he’d only make me feel this way again.
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