The mall is packed with shoppers. Christmas music plays over the loud speakers and a youth choir sings carols, gathering a crowd. Even though Christmas is my favorite time of year, from the smells to the sounds, and the general mood of everything, I don’t know how I’m supposed to shop after what happened outside with Heath. I can’t seem to focus on anything else. I even run into a guy walking passed me, bumping shoulders with him because I’m too busy focusing on Heath. I’m not sure how he managed to get this kind of grip on me so quickly. I need to focus on getting my boss a gift and forget about Heath.

I try to think about the task at hand. I steer us toward Macy’s and we make our way to the men’s clothing section. My boss is always wearing sweaters, but they are old and unraveling. Those strange Fargo-looking sweaters with the strings of moose appliques wrapping around the middle that look like they’re from the 1980s. It’s time to update his look.

I can feel Heath watching me as I sort through the racks.

“What are you shopping for?” I ask.

He glances away from me quickly and has the embarrassed look of someone who’s been caught staring. “Gifts for friends mostly,” he says.

“Isn’t the O-Maker gift enough?” I say, laying the sarcasm on thick.

He finally makes eye contact with me, and chuckles. “You must really think I’m full of myself, don’t you?”

“You are someone who calls himself the O-Maker. If you were me, what would you think?”

He shrugs, his smile never wavering. “I have a skillset that I’m pretty good at. Isn’t there something you’re good at that you’re proud of?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m a great baker, but you don’t see me calling myself Callista Cookie-Maker Walker.”

“Really? You’re a baker? I would love to try your cookie.”

I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I bet you would.”

“You might not believe it,” he says, “but there’s more to me than my online persona.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“I rescue dogs and run a charity that helps prevent animal cruelty.”

My eyes open wide. That, I wasn’t expecting. “Is Opie one of your rescues?” I ask.

“He is. Every dog I’ve ever had has been rescued.”

I nod. “That’s commendable. What else?”

“I also rescue sad, insecure women from a lifetime of mediocre sex,” he says with a wink.

I laugh and throw a sweater at him. It goes wide and he catches it before it hits the mannequin behind him. His smile is breathtaking.

“You’re terrible,” I say.

“Not as terrible as your aim.”

I huff out a breath of laughter and go back to sweater hunting.

“I’m also kidding,” he says. “Well, not about your aim,” he adds. “But about the other stuff. While all the O-Maker stuff is true, it’s not who I am anymore.” The look on his face turns surprisingly serious. “I’m actually looking for something with more substance.”

I stare at him. He starts to fidget under my watch. “Wow,” I say, clapping my hands. “You’re good. I almost believed that.”

He takes a bow. “Why, thank you.”

Part of me actually believes him. It’s hard to fake sincerity like that.

I lift up a sweater from the rack in front of me for him to see. It’s black and gray argyle. “What do you think about this one?” I ask. Since I have a guy around, I might as well get some use out of his opinion.

He raises his eyebrows.

“I know,” I say before he can protest. “For anyone else, this would be a terrible gift, but you don’t know my boss like I do. He’s totally a sweater guy. He lives for them.”

Heath studies the sweater in my hand, tilting his head from side to side. I start having doubts about my choice.

I say, “It’s so hard to pick something off the rack without seeing it on someone first.”

“Hand it to me. I’ll model it for you,” he says, reaching out for the hanger.

“That’s actually a really good idea,” I say and hand it to him. I grab three others in different colors and hand them to him as well.

I’m sure Heath could try on a woman’s mu-mu and still manage to make it look good. Whatever it looks like on Heath, I know it won’t look that way on my boss with his plumping dad bod and receding hairline, but at least it will give me a gist on the size and a color that will look decent.

We go over to the men’s dressing room. I wait on a bench for him to come out. There’s some rustling on the other side of the door, then his voice: “I think I might need your help with this.”

“You need my help?”

It’s not like there’s a zipper or anything. It’s just a pullover sweater. How hard can it be?

“Yeah,” he says. “Can you come here for a sec?”

He unlocks the door. I go inside. He’s not wearing a shirt. My eyes wander over his incredible body. It’s even better in person than it was in the pictures. Even in this harsh overhead lighting he looks amazing.

I squeeze into the tight space with him. There’s no way to avoid touching each other—not that I’m trying all that hard. My face is in front of his chest. I’m tempted to stick my tongue out and taste his tan skin. How is he tan in the middle of summer when I look like part of The Addam’s Family as soon as fall hits?

He smells so good. Masculine, clean, all male. My face starts to twitch. I’m not sure why. Nervousness, would be my guess. It’s not every day I find myself in a cramped dressing room with a half-naked stranger who wants to make me come. I’m seriously thinking that if he offers to have sex with me again, there’s no way I’ll be able to turn him down.

He touches my waist. The same spot where the man on the subway had grabbed me. But with Heath it’s different. It’s welcomed. It’s wanted.

I shiver as he reaches under my layers of clothing until finding skin, rubbing his palm against my stomach. His warm hands start to move upward until they rest just under my breast at the underwire of my bra.

When I speak, my voice is as shaky and wavering as the rest of my body. “You’re obviously not here to shop. You haven’t looked at a single thing since we got here,” I say.

He leans into me until the backs of my knees are against the bench and I’m forced to sit, eye level with his cock that strains hard against his jeans. So much for my theory about “good looks, small penis.” Jesus, that’s an intimidating mound. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had a giant cock. I’ve been with guys who I thought were a decent size, but they have nothing on Heath.

I look up. My gaze meets his and I’m once again struck by those penetrating eyes, the way they devour me hungrily. “I’ve looked at one thing,” he says.

His fingers move beneath my bra, catching my nipple between them and gently pinching and pulling, toying as a gasp escapes my lips.

His grin spreads across his face. “Sounds like you want it too,” he says.

Part of me wants to resist him, to be stronger than the lust I feel. I never thought of myself as the kind of girl who has sex with someone without getting to know him first. But my body is saying otherwise. My pulsing cunt and the gush of lubricant filling my panties are all proving otherwise.

My eyes flitter closed as his hands explore the top half of my body. Someone walks into the dressing room beside us and closes the door. On any other occasion, the clatter of hangers and shuffle of someone dressing would be too distracting to keep this up, but not now. I’m lost in this pleasure abyss.

With expert precision, Heath unbuttons my jeans and slips his hand inside, rubbing the fabric of my panties covering the swollen mound of flesh that might as well be my brain right now because it’s all I’m thinking with at this point.

“Damn, you’re wet,” he says in a low growl.

I spread my legs wider, but there’s not much room for him to maneuver, so I pull down my jeans to my ankles. He shows me that cocky grin. I know that look. He thought I was going to put up more of a fight, but it turns out I’m not as strong as I thought I was. I’m a weak, weak woman longing to have a man make me come. I am powerless to his touch. There’s something about him that makes all my efforts to keep him at bay completely useless. I’ve never struggled to say no to anyone before. Just ask any of my exes.

His hand slips into my panties. He pulls them down to my knees as well. Slow, as if he wants this moment to last. I’m breathing hard, the moisture of my pussy a steady leak, aching, wanting. My clit feels engorged, in need of touching. In need of release.

His hand brushes lightly over my shaved mound. My entire body shivers. He uses both hands to touch my cleft and spread my pussy lips apart. His lips parts and the look on his face is focused and full of longing.

“You have such a beautiful pussy,” he says and runs his fingers through the slippery folds of skin. “So pink and perfect.” The person in the room next to us stops moving. They don’t make a sound and I know he heard what Heath said. He probably has his ear against the partition wall, listening. There’s something really hot about someone listening in. In the event that they aren’t turned on by Heath’s sexy words and find it offensive, I’m careful not to make any sounds.

I try to ignore the thoughts of having an audience and close my eyes, enjoying the feel of him touching me. I thought it would be awkward, but it’s actually a huge turn on.

He dips a finger inside of me. My eyes roll in the back of my head and my body becomes limp. I’m a puddle on the bench as he works his magic. That’s what it is. He’s some kind of wizard. Never have I been so happily fucked by a single finger. It feels so good, and when he adds a second, I’m melting.

He lets out a quiet laugh and kisses the smooth skin above my clit. Never touching that sensitive spot, just around it. Toying with me. Driving me crazy. He then adds a third finger and I feel wonderfully stretched. He’s fucking me good and hard with his fingers, making wet, squelching sounds. It’s hands down the best sexual contact I’ve ever had with any guy I’ve been with so far. It feels amazing, but it’s when he starts to fan out his fingers that’s when the true pleasure begins. His fingers move inside of me, stretching, hooking, massaging. All these different sensations happening in a place where I’m only used to something going in and out.

My body feels as if it’s being transformed into something else. A cocoon hatching, a butterfly spreading its wings into something majestic. I feel charged, explosive, volatile. I could go off at any moment. I’m dangling over an edge I’ve never been near before. Then I realize what’s happening. I’m about to come. This man is actually going to do something no one else has ever been able to do before him.

My eyes spring open. I look at Heath. He’s watching me. He knows it’s going to happen too and the smug look on his face has victory written all over it.

That is until the door opens.

I let out a startled yelp when I see a young woman, nineteen, maybe twenty, standing there, the look of shock on her face mirroring my own. My orgasm is smothered by the sudden intrusion.

The girl, a pretty and petite brunette, has a stack of clothes hung over her arm. Her name tag reads Stacia. She looks at me, then at Heath, as if she’s not completely certain what she’s seeing. It doesn’t take long for her to comprehend—you know, since my legs are wide open, my bare pussy completely exposed, and Heath’s fingers are still inside of me. Kind of hard not to put two and two together.

The girl doesn’t even try to avert her eyes, a shy smile plays on her lips. It’s like she’s under some kind of spell. I’m telling you, Heath is a magician.

“Um …” she finally says. She blushes and laughs. “You guys aren’t supposed to do that in here.”

I want to close my legs, hide myself, but Heath doesn’t remove his hand. The only thing I can do is stare at Heath. It doesn’t do much to help the humiliation I feel.

I’m mortified, but Heath turns on the charm with his confident smile. She watches him intently as he pulls his fingers out of me, the evidence of my near orgasm dripping onto the bench, a cloudy white liquid. His fingers shine under the harsh light, wet with my juices. The girl’s eyes widen as he licks his fingers clean.

She shifts her weight as if trying to keep her own wetness from dripping down her leg. She looks at him, swooning, like he’s some kind of god. Then her eyes shift quickly to me, and the look on her face is utter envy.

“I’ll, um, let you two finish getting dressed,” she says and hurries away, forgetting to close the door behind her.

When she’s gone, Heath says, “I think she wanted to join us.”

I think he’s right.

“Well, in case she didn’t and decides to call mall security, we might want to get out of here,” I say.

He winks at me and says, “You make a good point.”

We quickly dress and flee the store. So much for that sweater. I’ll have to buy one somewhere else.

Once we’re out of the store, we’re both breathing hard and laughing so loud that people turn to stare.

“On my god, I can’t believe we did that in public,” I say, feeling vibrant and light. I’ve never done anything that crazy before. Maybe there’s something to exhibitionism, because I feel more turned on than ever before. I can still feel the phantom of his fingers moving inside of me.

Heath bends over, catching his breath, coughing out laughter. When he stands back up, he reaches for me. At first I think he’s reaching for the jacket in my hand. He’d forgotten to put it back on and so I grabbed it before I left the dressing room. But instead of taking his jacket, he grabs my waist and pulls me into a kiss.

I’m shocked at first. I’m not sure why. Finger fucking me inside a men’s dressing room seems far more intimate than a single kiss, but this feels … different. Not a tongue down my throat or frothing at the mouth, sliming each other kind of kiss. Instead, it’s sweet, and slow, and … romantic. The kind of kiss that makes my entire body come alive. Not what I was expecting from the O-Maker. When he pulls away, he looks equally surprised by his actions. As if his mouth has a mind of its own.

He gets this serious look on his face that furrows his brow. Gone is the cocky, over-confident smile. “I need to be with you. Now. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

When it comes to Heath, I think the word ‘No’ has been wiped out of my vocabulary.

“Let’s go,” I say.

* * *

Heath gets us a room at a nearby hotel. We’ve barely made it into the elevator before he’s kissing me again. I’m sure there are cameras in here, but I doubt it’s anything new for whomever watches the footage. They’ve probably seen worse.

Once we’re at the room, we only part long enough for him to slide in the keycard. It’s a nice room with windows covering an entire wall facing the snowy city. Fancier than anything I’ve ever stayed in. Not exactly what I was expecting for a quick hookup. There are mints on the pillow and everything—which bounce onto the floor when he pulls me down onto the bed with him.

He goes to work taking off my clothes. There is a lot to shed: boots, jacket, sweater, shirt, tank top, bra. I’d bundled up for the trip to town. I’m like a fortress. I’m surprised he was able to get under all those layers to play with my breasts in the dressing room.

He takes off everything but my bra. That’s when he starts to slow things down.

It’s oddly sweet the way he looks me in the eyes, touching my cheek and kissing me gently on the face, everywhere but my lips. Again, not exactly what I was expecting from the O-Maker.

He touches the silky fabric of my bra. His hands are big, palms as large as my cup size. The entire time he touches me, he watches my face until I start to feel a little self-conscious. Not that I have anything to feel bad about. I have no serious self-esteem issues. I’ve just never had a guy pay this much attention to my face while my clothes were off. His fingers move up, now caressing the swell of my breasts. He leans over, kissing the tops of each one.

I smile. Where’s the wild guy who’d plunged his fingers inside of me in the dressing room, licking the fruits of his labor in front of an unsuspecting worker?

I quickly realize, as he kisses his way up my neck, that this isn’t going to be some fast and furious fuck. At least not at first. This is going to be an experience. My excitement starts to build until I’m shaking uncontrollably. My jaw even gives a small chatter before I clamp my mouth shut.

Heath stops kissing me long enough to gaze into my eyes. That look is enough to get me going again.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

I run my fingers through his thick dark hair and touch the scruff of his jaw. “I’m perfect.”

He glances down at my breasts. “Damn right you are.”

I laugh. He kisses my lips again. I can feel the hardness of his cock digging into me through his jeans. This time when we kiss there’s an urgency there. When I open my mouth to taste him, he greedily takes my tongue and sucks it into his mouth, holding it captive for several seconds until letting it go. But I want back in. I force my tongue between his lips and kiss him deeply again.

He squeezes my breast and I gasp. Taking my bottom lips between his teeth, he gently bites it. I’m caught between the intensity of our kiss and the feel of his thumb brushing against my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra. He never touches the skin, but the feeling is so intense my nipples become hard.

“You have an amazing body,” he tells me.

Before I can return the compliment, he’s kissing me again. His mouth then leaves my lips and finds my chin. He goes back to my neck, moving down, back to the swell of my breast where he started. Squeezing them together, he sticks his tongue in the crevice.

“I want to fuck you so hard,” he says. “You have no idea how difficult it is to restrain myself right now.”

I’m breathing like I’ve just run a mile. “Then fuck me,” I say.

I’m not trying to hold him back. I’m ready. The pool between my legs is evidence enough. If he could get me that close to coming by just using his fingers, I have no doubt of his abilities anymore.

He shakes his head, tracing his finger around my bellybutton. “No, I want to torture you first.”

My eyebrows go up and I meet his mischievous gaze.

He continues. “I want to bring you right to the edge before denying you. Push and pull until you think you’ll lose your mind. By the time I finally allow your body release, you’ll feel it in your bones, your skull, your teeth.”

“Yes, I want that,” I say desperately, barely able to get the words out through ragged breaths.

I’m frantically trying to peel off his clothes, but he’s not making it easy for me. After several more failed attempts, he finally stands up. I stay on the bed, propped up on my elbows and watch as he kicks off his boots. Slow and sexy, he takes off his shirt, revealing again, the most beautiful male body I’ve ever seen. Perfect columns of muscle that create a six pack. The trail of hair and an extremely sexy V that points down to the treasure between his legs.

He slowly unbuttons his jeans, then unzips them, drawing the time out, making a show of it. His big, hard cock tightens his jeans, making it somewhat of a struggle to get them off, but when he finally does, it’s worth the wait. Even with his boxers on, it’s easy to see he’s gifted size-wise. There’s a dark spot on his gray boxers, wet from pre cum.

“I want them off,” I say, sitting up. “I want to see everything.”

“You first,” he says.

I waste no time, and reach back, undoing my bra and tossing it across the room.

He makes a sound of approval and with a touch of whimsy in his voice says, “Those are incredible.”

My breasts have always been a flytrap for men. Even Stephanie always makes comments about how perfect they are. Not too big, not too small. Full, round, natural C-cups. I’m quite proud of them, actually. Especially after seeing the look on Heath’s face.

I stand up and kick off my boots and socks and take off my jeans so that we’re both in our underwear.

“Now your turn,” I say, pointing to his boxers.

His smile removes any of the residual fears or hesitation I had about hooking up with a stranger. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and he pulls them down. My eyes open wide, drinking in every ounce of him. His cock is steel-hard, thick and proud, the tip of the head reaching up to his bellybutton. My pussy flexes instinctually, as if my body is warming to accommodate his size. I’ve never been with a man this big before, and I start to wonder how easily I can take him. He’s even bigger than my dildo, which is a good seven inches.

I’m in disbelief that I’m here right now. This gorgeous man stripped down in front of me. Crazy how I woke up this morning with plans to get coffee and go shopping. Now I’m here. And to think it all started with a mistake. Something stupid I said on the internet. If only all the stupid things I say could end with such a reward.

I want him bad but he refuses to give himself to me right away, even with my arms stretched toward him, begging. He has more self-control than I do. Probably from all the women he pleasures on a regular basis. I’m just one of many. Another notch on his belt. I don’t know why I’m jealous, but I am, and the thought of him with all those other women takes the fire out of me.

He must see it in my face, because he comes closer to me and wraps his arms around my waist, hands rubbing the bare skin of my back. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “More beautiful than any other woman I’ve ever been with.”

There’s a flutter in my stomach even though I’m sure he probably uses that line on all of them. But he says it so convincingly that I buy into it—if only for the moment—hook, line, and sinker.

I remind myself that this isn’t a relationship. I’m not here for love. He’s the O-Maker, and right now, I’m here to get my damn O.

Grabbing the sides of his face, I say, “Kiss me.”

He does. And it’s a messy, wonderful, frenzy of a kiss. He pushes me down, forcing my knees apart and sinks between my legs. At first his fingers flirt with the soaked fabric of my panties.

He rubs me vigorously, kissing my inner thigh. He wasn’t joking when he said this would be torture. I want him so much I feel half out of my mind.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he says.

“I …”

I thought I knew what was supposed to happen next in this dance, but it turns out I don’t. I’m not sure what I want because everything I’ve had done to me before with other men hasn’t worked. But that’s what I’m used to, so it’s just expected. Now it seems like whatever Heath is doing is what I want. Like he knows my body better than I do.

“I don’t know,” I admit, embarrassed.

I’m sure he was expecting some confident tigress in the sack, and instead he got this confused mess. How disappointed he must be.

He looks curiously at me. I have to say, there’s nothing sexier than a man looking up at me from between my legs. This man in particular.

He gets this cheeky smile that I’m starting to realize is a signature of his. “I guess that’s a problem, isn’t it? No wonder a guy has never given you an orgasm before. He’s flying blind down here.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing just fine,” I say.

He bites the soft skin of my inner thigh, making me jump a little. “That’s because I know how to read a woman’s body,” he says. That jealous beast inside of me rears its head again at the mention of other women, and I again try to force it down, but he’s making it difficult. Maybe he’s doing it on purpose. Maybe that’s part of the torture he was talking about. If so, I don’t like it.

“Like when I do this …” he says, and touches the skin just above my clit. I let out a slow breath. “Right there your body just did a hundred different things that tell me you liked that. Your breathing changed. Your ass raised off the bed just the slightest bit as if your pussy were reaching for my finger after I took it away. The way your mouth parted.”

“If you’re so in tune with a woman’s body, then why did you ask me what I wanted in the first place?” I ask.

He continues to touch that very delicate spot above my clit, rubbing in circles. I’ve never had a man touch me there for any length of time. It’s usually bypassed, going straight to the clit.

He shrugs. “I just wanted to hear you talk dirty, make you think you have a say in all the things I plan to do to you.”

“Oh, well then,” I say matter-of-factly. “Then fuck my pussy.”

He lifts his head, looking at the ceiling in thought. “Hmm. No. I mean, yeah, you’d probably get off at this point if we just fucked, but you’re not getting off that easy. I want you to beg for it. I want you starving for it.” Another flick of his fingers above my clit has me almost jumping out of my skin. I can’t focus on his words, I’m so out of my mind with want.

I spread my legs wider for him. “Do what you will.” I’m practically begging. Can’t he hear it in my voice?

I’m lying on my back, head on several pillows, inclined just enough to see what’s happening. My heart hammers in my chest. As he starts to touch me, my body comes alive, leaning into his every caress. His hands start at my knees, teasing, tickling their way down to my center. His eyes stay steady on my face.

I’m trying to keep calm, to keep from grabbing onto the back of his head and pressing his face into me. This is a moment I need to savor because who knows when the next time will be when I find myself in bed with a man as incredibly sexy as Heath. Guys like him don’t grow in these parts too often. He’s like some rare orchid and I can’t believe I’m lying here, exposed to him.

His finger slips into the cleft between my legs, sliding easily along my wet flesh. When he barely bumps his hand against my clit, I nearly come undone. We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff and already I’m feeling the pressure in my core, that same wonderful buildup I’d felt when he fingered me in the dressing room at the store.

Once he’s massaged my outer lips, he spreads my inner lips and covers my pussy with his eager mouth. My hips come off the bed, thrusting toward him. His tongue starts to explore, leaving no surface untouched.

When he comes up for air, he licks his lips and says, “Your pussy is as sweet as it smells. Just how I imagined it would.” His voice is velvet, dripping with lust.

He doesn’t wait for me to respond before diving back in, plunging his tongue into me. He works it in and out, drinking his fill and going back for more.

When he surfaces again, he says, “Rub your clit for me. I want to see you work it.”

I do as he asks, rubbing the hard nub, pulling the skin back off the hood of my clit, opening myself up to him. I’m his slave, willing to do anything to please him at this point as long as he keeps making me feel the way he’s making me feel.

As he tongue-fucks me, a cry of ecstasy bursts from somewhere deep inside of me. I open my eyes. Did I make that sound? I hadn’t meant to. I’m a little embarrassed about it to be honest. I’m hardly ever noisy in bed, but this noise I made came out of nowhere. Heath seems to like it. He’s in a feeding frenzy now, lifting my legs, practically folding me in half. My ass is in the air. His tongue goes completely off course and finds my ass.

I pull in a startled breath. If it didn’t feel so amazing, I would’ve stopped him. That place is strictly off-limits. Always has been. Never, I told myself and the boyfriends who would beg for anal play. No way in hell.

But with Heath, my inhibitions have been tossed out the window. Anything goes as long as it feels good. Somehow, even though I don’t know him, I feel safe. Comfortable enough to let myself and all my rigid rules completely go. Now that I’m having this new, incredible experience, I don’t know why I was ever closed off to the idea to begin with.

“Oh fuck!” I yell when the tip of his tongue pushes passed the outer ring of that virgin muscle. I can’t believe his tongue is actually in my asshole and I’m loving every minute of it. He’s really going for it and all of these new sensations roar through my body like a train.

When he’s in as far as my tight opening will go, he pulls his tongue out and goes back to licking my pussy. That pressure is back and I know what’s coming.

Several quick gasps escape my lips. I’m going to come. The O-Maker has done it again. Another woman with a Twitter tale, satisfaction guaranteed.

But as I’m about to be pushed over the edge, he moves away. Just as fast as my orgasm started to appear, it’s gone again.

I look at him like what the hell?

His cocksure smile sends butterflies through my stomach. “Not yet. I said this was going to be torture and I meant it.”

I flop back on the bed. Torture is right. I was so close to my first manned orgasm, and now it’s gone. My body is trembling. I can’t control it. And he knows it. He looks so arrogant right now. And somehow it remains the sexiest thing to me. In fact, I’m getting more turned on the more he denies me.

I’m mindlessly rubbing my clit still, when he pushes my hand away and leans down, flicking his tongue once, twice, a third time. Every time he touches it I spasm, my whole being straining for release. He stops, looks up at me and blows a jet of hot air directly on my clit.

I sigh a long moan and arch my back. Who would have thought a breath of fresh air could make a girl gush?

He chuckles, low in his throat, before wrapping his warm lips around the hard nub. He hums, the vibration shooting pleasure to my center and up my spine. I buck underneath him, crying out, unintelligible, gasping for air.

It’s his groan that undoes me. He rams two fingers inside my wet pussy so fast I choke for air. My mouth opens on a silent scream as he pistons in and out of my slick sheath, his lips sucking so hard on my clit I go rigid, pleasure piercing every nerve ending.

And then it happens. The big bang where everything expands and comes to life. My world explodes. All my muscles go rigid and I buck off the bed, my hips slamming up, burying his face further into my pussy. I come apart, flashes of light racing across my vision.

“Fuck, yes!” I yell, finally able to put forth words. He doesn’t stop, he keeps going, drawing out the best orgasm of my life. My body trembles, twitches against him with every thrust of his finger, every pull of his lips against my clit. Before long, he slows, lazily touching me, savoring.

“Mmm, so wet,” he whispers, almost to himself. I look down, my vision slightly blurred seeing two of him. Wouldn’t that be something? His eyes are hot, hungry, roving over my body before he removes his fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

I almost come again, right then and there. He’s so fucking hot, kneeling between my thighs, feasting on my cream. The need I have to feel him inside of me grows exponentially. I ache for him, my pussy clenching for more than his fingers.

As if sensing my need, he stands up, pulling my body down to the edge of the bed, my ass hanging halfway off. He says nothing, but his eyes, they speak volumes. There’s a promise there, a heat so intense I feel it scalding me from the inside out.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demands, suddenly. His nostrils flaring, the muscles on his stomach and chest flexing. His fingers dig into my thighs painfully as he leans forward, rubbing the head of his swollen cock against my wet folds.

I moan. It feels so good, his hot length pressed against me.

“Fuck me, Heath. I need you,” I say breathlessly. I’m finding it hard to breathe again. Every little thrust of his hips brings the head of his cock against my tender clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I feel myself dripping, my pussy juices running down the seam of my ass.

I’ve never been this wet in my life.

“Beg me,” he growls. His thrusts become swifter, his hips jerking into mine, every brush against the nerve bundle causing my breath to hitch. Could I come again like this?

Fuck yeah I could.

“Please, please, please,” I beg, a mantra. His teasing is never ending. He pushes my legs farther apart, exposing me further. When his eyes turn slumberous I melt into the bed. Damn, he’s gorgeous. The sexiest man to ever touch me. Never have I felt this way.

He pulls back, only to rest the head of his cock at my entrance. I clench reflexively.

“You like that, don’t you?” He purrs, sliding the head of his incredible cock around my wet entrance. I can’t stand it, he’s so close, I just need him to ram it hard inside. I feel empty, I need it so bad.

I raise my hips, trying to force him inside me. He laughs, taking one of his hands and pushing me down, holding me in place.

“Don’t make me tie you up,” he says.

I hiss out a breath, the sudden image so appealing I go blind for a second. I feel him shift from the bed, reaching down, and then I hear the tear of a condom wrapper, and his intake of breath as he rolls the condom down his cock. Finally, he rears back and rams his length so far inside me I flinch.

He’s so big, too big, he’s tearing me in two. I whimper, wiggling my hips, wanting to push away, yet wanting him closer at the same time. He’s got me so tied up in knots I don’t know what I want anymore.

He stills above me, his breathing suddenly harsh. The lines of his face sharpen, become more intense. He’s looking at me again in that way that he does, the way that makes me feel like I am the only woman in the world to him.

It does something funny to my stomach, squeezes my insides.

I lose that train of thought as he starts to move, slowly. He pulls out, moaning softly, before ramming back inside. He’s so big I can feel him pressing against my cervix, and it feels so good.

So. Fucking. Good.

His head hangs low, his eyes leaving mine as his body takes over. Again and again he slowly pulls out, only to ram his shaft to the base, deep inside me. Pressure builds, goose bumps of pleasure scatter across my body.

I can’t take it. I need him to go faster, I need … so much need.

“Faster, harder, fuck,” I say, garbled. He complies, no longer teasing. He grabs my ass and lifts me, changing the angle, going deeper. I cry out, his groan mimicking mine. Something snaps and he throws his head back, his movements becoming frenzied.

He punches into me, drilling faster and faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing around us.

“So damn tight,” he moans, his fingers digging in to the flesh of my ass. I squeeze around his cock and surprise registers as it swells further. I can tell he’s close, his breathing is ragged, his hips ramming into mine with uncontrollable force.

I couldn’t stop the orgasm if I tried. I rear up and he grabs me, instinctively wrapping me in his arms, pulling my chest to his. My breasts press against him and I come apart in his arms, his dick so far up inside me I’m seeing stars.

The walls of my slick sheath squeeze him tight and he curses, his body going still as he comes forcefully. We stay like that for a few moments, our chests heaving in unison, my body trembling against his, sated.

He turns his head, finally, and kisses the corner of my mouth, his cock still hard inside me. He twitches, once, pushing inside me with a low groan.

“So, fucking, good.” He enunciates each word with a little thrust. I whimper, my tender flesh responding immediately.