Page 58 of Puck, Marry, Kill

I feel like a fucking god. No, I feel likethefucking god right now as she peels her eyes open and stares at me in blissed-out relief.

I can’t wait any longer. I need her too badly.

I stand, ripping the rest of my clothes off. Crawling onto the bed, I lower some of my weight onto her, my cock pressed between us. I can feel her warmth, her juices already coating me. “Briar, you with me?” I ask. My voice is gravel, my instincts animalistic, but I don’t want her to regret this later. This is a big deal for her. For me too.

She nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, please. I’m ... safe.”

The revelation urges me on as her nails dig into my hips, guiding me to where she wants me. I pull back slightly, lining up with her entrance, and then slowly, I press my way into her. Not wanting to overwhelm her with the depth of my hunger, I have to grit my teeth to maintain some semblance of control. But somehow, I do it as every inch she takes of me is wrapped in heavenly, hot, liquid velvet. Once I’m fully seated in her, I grind a little deeper, wanting to imprint myself there inside her.

I try to be gentle, going slow to give her time to adjust to my cock and to what we’re doing, but she’s just as desperate as I am, and inmoments, she’s squirming beneath me, lifting her hips up to try and take more of me inside her. She whimpers my name in this needy tone that is my undoing.

“Damn it,” I hiss as I lose any remaining grip on my sanity, and then finally, I get to fuck Briar the way I’ve been desperate to for weeks.

I thrust into her hard and deep, her body not only welcoming me, but taking me with tight little spasms of her walls that put me dangerously close to the point of no return in an embarrassingly short time. Desperately wanting to prolong this, I flip us over so that she’s on top of me.

“Whooo—” she calls out at the sudden change in position.

“Ride me, Briar. Take what you need, give me what you can,” I tell her.

She blinks, new uncertainty coming back into the depths of her blue eyes, and wanting to reassure her, I take her cheek in my hand, pulling her in for another kiss. Against her mouth, into our kiss, I whisper, “You can do it. You can do anything, brave badass. You’ve got me about to come already.”

I feel the effect my words have on her—the rush of fresh heat that covers me down to my balls, the vise grip of her inner walls. I groan and move my hands to her hips, gripping her so hard that I feel her skin dimpling beneath my fingertips. “Fuck me, Briar.”

I’m the one begging now as I try to guide her.

She lifts her hips slowly, then lowers back down, testing herself ... or testing me? I groan in pained pleasure and watch her eyes dilate. There it is—the moment she realizes the power she wields over me. Her hands find my chest, one planted right over the commemorative tattoo of the Cup in a hawk’s claw and the other over my heart, and she begins to move her pussy up and down my cock more confidently.

And that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I fight to keep my eyes open, wanting to witness this transformation of Briar as she discovers what she’s capable of, explores the command she holds, and finally—finally!—takes for herself with no regard for selflessness.

She rises, sitting tall as she rides me, and I lick my thumb, coating it in saliva. Slipping it between us, I flick it over her clit as she impales herself on my cock.

“Oh!” she cries out, her head falling back. I let my eyes drop to her breasts, which are bouncing with every thrust ... her stomach, clenching with pleasure ... to the point where we’re joined.

“Fuck, Briar. I’m gonna come. Where do you ... where?” I want to give her a choice, even though the thought of filling her with my cum sends me dangerously closer to the edge. I want to paint her insides with it. I want it to leak out of her later, marking her thighs and reminding her of what we’ve done.

I might be evolved, but I’m still a caveman at my core.

“Do it,” she gasps, her movements never pausing. “Please.”

I roar, snatching her from over me and pulling her against my chest, stilling her with my arms wrapped around her like vises. I thrust into her, I grunt into her hair, I feel her pussy milking me, and I don’t stop.

I might never stop.

My cock jerks, hot cum spilling forth as blackness and stars overtake my vision. I keep fucking her even as my cock softens, as cum leaks out over me because Briar is making these hot, needy sounds like she’s close again. Wanting to give that to her, I force myself to pull out and toss her back to the bed. I follow her, shoving my fingers inside her and thrusting them in, over and over again as I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing those sexy noises.

I won’t deny that the idea that I’m pushing my own cum back into her, filling her with it again, forcing it back inside her body is Neanderthal-esque. But I can’t care right now. All I care about is Briar coming one more time.

Her pleasure.

Her needs.

Her wants.

Her.

“You look so fucking pretty right now,” I murmur. “Eyes wild, cheeks pink, pussy covered with our cum.” Her eyes jerk to mine, her mouth falling open like she’s going to argue. Or maybe like no one has ever spoken to her like that. I pet that spot again, more intensely as I say firmly, “So fucking pretty, Briar.”

And she shatters again, her whole body contracting and spasming as she calls out my name.