Page 104 of Secret Obsession
It just feels too good.
After a week of nothing but tension, I’m ready.
“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting me off him.
My back hits the mattress, legs in the air, and my breath leaves me in a sharp exhale.
He’s on me in a second—but it isn’t his cock that’s sliding back into me. It’s his fingers, two of them pumping and stroking, while he kisses down my body. He bats my hand away.
“Miles—”
His lips close over my clit.
I let out a hiss. He sucks and bites and licks until I’m shuddering against him, clenching at his fingers.
“Two,” he says, barely raising his head. “I want another.”
“Another… what?” I push up on my elbows.
He’s already dipping back down, running his nose along my center. Inhaling.Smellingme. And his eyes roll back like it’s the best fucking thing he’s smelled, while I try not to cringe. His free hand moves up my side, palming my breast. He pinches my nipple and tweaks it between his fingers, while his mouth works magic on my cunt.
Oh God.
I don’t know if I say that out loud.
I think I might, but fuck it.
I say it again, louder.
He thrusts his tongue inside me, his fingers taking over rubbing my clit. He tongue-fucks me over the edge, and I almost black out from the force of it. I sag back on the pillow.
“Holy shit.”
And then I’m being flipped. I let out anoofas I hit the mattress face-first and suck in a quick breath. But then he’s dragging my hips back, my knees bending, and he slides back into me.
“Oh, fuck.” I bury my head in the pillow, extending my arms forward to brace myself against the headboard.
He pounds into me with an unmatched fervor. My whole body moves with the force of it, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. I push my hips back, meeting every fucking thrust. His hands on my hips are squeezing hard enough to bruise.
The insane part of me hopes he marks me in more ways than one.
“Harder,” I grind out.
He replies by slapping my ass. The pain just sends another flood of wetness between my thighs, and his dark chuckle hits me. And then his palm, striking me again.
Holy fucking fire.
“What do you want, wild girl?” he calls.
His fingers are massaging my ass, even as he fucks me hard enough to bruise my cunt. And he’s hitting some deep, dark spot inside me. A spot I should be ashamed about.
Not physical.
Mental.
“What do you need?” he rephrases.
“You,” I choke out. “Directions.”
