Page 47 of Hollywood King
I feel branded by her, owned, used, remade.
She arched up against me and wiggled, trying to get the friction she needed on her clit. “Let me help you.” I slid my hand between us, sweat already slickening the way, and gently rubbed her clit.
The groan she let out made the sideways position worth it, but she wasn’t satisfied. I let her go, gripped her ass and rolled us over with her still riding my dick. “Now I can be the submissive.”
She didn’t miss a beat, and I almost came from the sight of her above me, face upturned in ecstasy, as she started to ride me in earnest. All I could do was hold on to her hips while she discovered the rhythm to send her spiraling.
And she fractured moments later, bucking against me, her arms giving way, and she fell against my chest. With a few final thrusts of my own, I came, harder than I have in my life. My knees shook from the force of it, and she watched me from her pillow of my shoulder.
We both lay still, silent, a nuclear winter in the aftermath of sensation and emotion. She broke the silence first. “Is it weird watching you come made me wet all over again?”
“Mmm…not weird at all. Give me a minute, and I’ll accommodate that request.”
The look on her face shifted, and she coughed into her hand, and the small cough turned into wracking bark I felt with my cock still inside her. I helped her to sitting and ran for some water.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything? Tell me what I can do.”
She gasped, trying to drag in more air, and she said the last thing I expected to hear after our first round of sex: “Call Eddy.”
