Dirty English

“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, chest heaving. “We’re completely wrong for each other, and I’m not even sure you like me most days.”

“I agree. But don’t let that stop you.”

He huffed out a laugh and tore out of his pants and tight athletic boxers, his cock bouncing out and straining for me. I sucked in a shuddering breath. Thick and hard, it was the biggest one I’d ever laid eyes on. My lower regions twitched.

He grinned. “You’re looking at my manhood like it’s a stick of dynamite about to explode.”

“Is it?”

His eyes laser-locked with mine. “Indeed.”

He knelt down, and a painful dawning hit his face. “I don’t have a condom. This was the last thing I expected would happen.” He cursed and rubbed his face briskly. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Disappointment seared me, my body crying out for him.

He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I’m clean, though. I’ve never had sex without one. Not once.”

I’d never let a guy near me that didn’t have a condom, but I came to a rapid decision. “I’m on the pill. If you say you’re safe, I believe you, Declan.”

He kissed me hard and swift. “Thank you for trusting me.”

I stared into his eyes. It wasn’t so much trust as need riding me. “I will cut your cock off if you give me a venereal disease. Got it?”

He chuckled. “I’ll let you, love. Just the thought of your hands on me makes me happy.”

He slid down to lie next to me, the press of his body like nirvana. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders as he gathered me close, and I moaned. Finally.

His hands roamed lower, his fingertips sliding my underwear and pants down my legs. His eyes followed their path. “Your legs are so damn long. I keep thinking about them wrapped around my hips …” He groaned, his mouth dipping down to kiss my tummy, my hips, the bend in my knees.

I groaned and spread my legs as his fingers burrowed in and slid into my center, dipping in and out. He spread the wetness around, pressing and teasing and strumming me with his touch.

I writhed and arched closer while he bit his lower lip, watching me twist to get him closer. Deeper.

There . Yes .

I moaned.

He worked me hard, yet gently, ghosting over the bundle of nerves in my G spot, thrumming them like a guitar string.

More . I wanted him everywhere.

He read my mind and maneuvered between my legs, placing them on his shoulders and then taking my center in his mouth. Hot fire flashed over every inch of me, and I gasped out as he delved deep into my recesses, his fingers playing at the heart of me. He parted my labia, his tongue searching for tender skin. His mouth worked me, rubbing and plucking with his lips.

Intense need built. I gasped out his name.

He looked up at me, eyes heavy with lust. “You like?”

I nodded. No one had ever done this to me. I’d never trusted them to.

“Don’t stop,” I murmured.

He didn’t deny me, plunging two fingers inside me, his tongue pulsing over my skin. His mouth took my clit captive, nursing it with soft strokes.

I screamed his name and snapped into a million pieces, the fragments scattering and falling all around me like stars from heaven. I gripped the edge of the mat and rode it out, my inner muscles clamping down and contracting under his mouth.

My body sagged onto the mat.

I cupped his face when he looked at me, a grin of satisfaction tipping up his lips. “I’ve been dying to do that since our first kiss in my apartment. You taste better than I ever imagined.” And then he kissed me hard, letting me taste myself.

I clung to his shoulders and gazed up at him. “I don’t know what to say except thank you for that.”

His hands caressed my face. Sweet. “I want you like I’ve never wanted another girl,” he whispered.

Oh. My heart thundered in happiness. Was he for real?

We kissed again as he eased between my legs, his hands brushing my thighs, little electric pulses shooting over me.

I let him on top of me, even though my rules clearly said he shouldn’t.

He held the base of his erection with one hand and worked into my sheath inch by inch. “You’re tight, Elizabeth,” he groaned. “So good, love.”

I moaned at how he felt, every nerve in my channel clinging to him. He held me for a few moments without moving, letting the fullness resonate and sink in, then he thrust in further, pushing down his cock, making even more room.

I parted my legs more, every inch of me wanting to take all of him until finally he seated himself all the way in. I cried out at the heat from his size and how it burned in a good way.

His head dropped to mine and he kissed me deeply just as he stared to move steadily, his cock pumping slow and then faster, slow and then faster, his pace controlled. He was a man who knew how to work a woman, who’d done this more times than I wanted to think about it. He shifted and reached underneath me to raise me up, giving him a more direct angle into my center.

Sweat dripped from both of us as he pressed hot kisses down my chest and captured a nipple, nipping at my skin as he throbbed inside me. He owned me, his hands clutching my hipbone to push in faster.

He went harder, his eyes wilder, his hands going everywhere, thrumming and circling my clit, demanding I come. He grunted in a primitive way, and I raised up on my elbows, wanting more friction, more of him and his coaxing fingers. I rotated my hips against his skin as we slapped together, up and down, slow and fast. His thrusts were sharp and sure, the pleasure mounting higher and higher.