Page 67 of Race With The Devil

Meanwhile he was whipping off his boxer briefs and sliding his penis between my thighs. I clamped them together to create friction, fascinated with the way the shiny mushroom head would appear between my legs.

I was rooted to the spot, reveling in the stark comparison between the images of Tanner onscreen, the shirtless selfies either he or some chick I couldn’t stand had taken, and the masculine reality of his hard, hairy body pressing against my naked back. I palmed his cock, so it’d rub more strongly against my bulging pussy lips. His thigh muscles trembled.

“Oh, Law, darlin’,” he groaned. One of his hands slid up my neck to hold my jaw, so he could ply me with biting, gnawing kisses. “I’ve never known a voluptuous, elegant woman like you. So luscious. You’re like a ripe piece of fruit.” He sucked on my diamond cheek stud.

“Do the Queen of Heaven,” I panted. I angled my hips as far back as humanly possible, capturing his thick glans in my palm, pressing it inside me.

On one of his thrusts it slipped in, and I gasped. It had been since Evan that I’d been penetrated. And I couldn’t recall the surge of love hormones being half as strong then.

Tanner seemed surprised, too. Poor guy had been waiting a long time for this. He paused, shuddering from deep within his core, cock twitching inside me. We stayed this way for what seemed like a long time, my pussy muscles squeezing his fat meat. I thought if I squeezed rhythmically and strongly enough I could make him come. Just the idea of him shooting his scorching, tasty load inside of me was enough to bring me to the brink of orgasm. When Tanner finally moved, he hissed in air through his teeth as though burned. He lifted his talented fingers to my clit and touched it experimentally.

I jumped. Then relaxed, threading my fingers again around the back of his neck. I clutched at his cock while spreading my knees farther apart on the mattress. We were turned a bit sideways to the mirror wall, and the sight was one that would stay imprinted on my brain forever. His muscular ass shivered as he flexed his cock inside me. He already knew that to stroke my clit meant I’d grasp his cock even more firmly, so it didn’t take much to bring us both to the brink of orgasm.

“Queen of Heaven,” he murmured, licking my earlobe. “I love you, Unity.”

“I love you, Tanner,” I said simply.

The thundering orgasm took me by surprise, as I’m sure it did Tanner. Between the pleasuring of his fingers and his prick I was a helpless blob of jelly. The rippling, building chain of contractions milked his dick, and he started fucking me in earnest. His free arm wrapped around my shoulders, coming dangerously close to bad memories of “breath play,” but those thoughts must’ve retreated over the past months. I freely bucked back against my man as he slapped his full ballsac against me. My brain shifted into slow frequency as we both came together, my brain flooded with feel-good hormones.

I remembered to open my eyes because I desperately wanted to watch Tanner’s biceps flex. It was one of my favorite visions in life. His head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle standing out in sharp relief. His neck was corded, and his glutes shivered as he pumped his load into me. I was in bliss being flooded with such masculinity, balancing out my fears, my paranoias, my terror of men.

It was no longer necessary.

I had freed myself from those perceptions of men, and I no longer had to paint all of them with the same brush. I was finally living my best, pure life.

Tanner knew he had to stop stroking me just as I knew I had to stop massaging his prick. We slid apart about the same time. Tanner landed on his back, one arm flung manfully above his head, but I fell onto all fours. Then I laughed.

“That’s not the Queen of Heaven position!”

I could tell Tanner didn’t expect that reaction. He looked genuinely perplexed. “It isn’t?”

“No! You don’t think I can google? The Queen of Heaven position is regular old missionary style.” I guffawed some more.

He looked abashed. “Is it? I must’ve had it mixed up all this time . . . “

I fell down next to him. “You knew! You know all that stuff. You just wanted to do it dogstyle.”

He shrugged adorably. “Can’t fault me for that.”

I clambered on top of him and kissed him deeply. He’d talked briefly about marriage, but I’d always blown him off, not ready to think about it. For the first time, I felt ready. How could I get him to bring it up again? Maybe I would have to myself.

That thought made me laugh too, so I slid off him and dashed to the tiny bathroom with the folding door. Halfway through peeing, a ruckus came from the bedroom.

What the fuck? I tensed, but soon perceived the ruckus was friendly. Tanner made growling noises. He must’ve been wrestling a dog on the bed. Wolf’s moronic but friendly voice soon answered all my questions.

“I want that egghead out bad!”

Tanner growled some more, then asked lightly, “Which egghead? I heard it’s not that easy to get someone out bad.”

I gathered “out bad” meant the brother was kicked out of the club permanently, in bad standing. Who did Wolf hate in the club?

“You know which colossal asswad! Tobiah Weingarten, that’s which epic asshat!”

The wrestling calmed down, and Tanner sounded more serious now. “Well, Tobiah’s not a brother. How can we kick him out? He’s CFO of Leaves of Grass. And by the way, I thought you were having a threesome with him and Tracy.”

“Not anymore! Guess what I fucking found? Not three but two tickets to Leather and Bear Week in Puerta Vallarta!”

“Ouch,” said Tanner. “That must hurt. But I’m just a fucking Prospect, Wolf. Have you bitched to Lytton?”