Page 8

Emily

H e doesn’t give me a chance to adjust to his size as he powers into me, slam after slam. His cock so deep it’s knocking my cervix. Holy shit, he’s like a powerhouse, and the words he growls while thrusting those strong hips into me—filthy.

“Fuck. Such a tight pussy.”

I moan.

“Going to leave you begging for more.”

Slam.

“Desperate for me.”

Thrust.

“Crawling for me.”

Slam.

“Willing to do anything for me, like a good little sub.”

Thrust.

His hand tangles in my hair as he uses his palm to pin my face to the bed. “I’m going to paint your back with my cum.”

My pussy clenches around him, loving the idea of him using me as his canvas and his cum coating me.

He leans forward and bites into my shoulders, and the pain sends a flash of arousal through me while my clit begs to be toyed with. I push my hips into the bed, hoping to rub myself against the sheets, and he chuckles, as if knowing what I’m trying to achieve.

“You don’t get to come until you’ve pleased me.”

His free hand takes hold of my hips, angling my ass higher and my pussy away from the sheets, making me whimper.

Then his thick hand smacks my ass cheek hard, causing tears to well in my eyes but pleasure to ripple through me.

Holy shit, he’s good.

So good.

He repeats the action, and each time, my pussy briefly holds his cock like a vise.

“So good.” He speaks my thoughts. “So. Fucking. Good.” He rides me hard and fast, the bed squeaks, and the slapping of our skin heightens my need to come.

I want to beg him. Plead and cry.

“My. Fucking. Pussy,” he roars, and his cock pulsates.

Then he withdraws, leaving me defeated, but when splashes of warmth hit my back, I cry out. I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life. He’s marking me as his, and I couldn’t be more confused because not only is my body his servant, but my mind is too.

For the first time ever, I want more than one night with a stranger in Oblivion.

I want more.