He was either disappointed with me or trying to prove a point. I didn’t care which it was. I’d always wanted to be smashed up against a wall and shoved full of dick by a tattooed biker. He was simply satisfying a fantasy I’d harbored for years.

“I. Love. Fucking. Your. Tight. Little. Pussy.” Each spoken word of his admission was complimented with a savage shove of his entire length.

Suspended above the floor by nothing more than the force of him fucking me, my thank you came in the form of a grunt that shot from my lungs each time he thrust his hips.

With his jeans around his ankles and my dress draped over his forearms, he continued like a man possessed by sexual demons. Caught up in the moment and enjoying every inch of what he offered me, I gave no objection.

The air between grew thick with the scent of his cologne. He smelled like heaven. I closed my eyes and allowed the aroma to carry me away.

His ability to transform me to a place void of outside influence fascinated me.

But. He was still a man. And, men were evil creatures. They lied, cheated, and ruined the lives of everyone in their wake. Baker’s surprise kiss somehow allowed me to forget that fact. For that moment, while we were embraced in the kiss, my past – and all the memories associated with it – vanished.

Unlike most women, I’d never really enjoyed kissing or being kissed. It was far too intimate of an act. Baker’s kiss was different. It brought with it a wave of complexity that cast me into an unfamiliar place. Despite the magic of the kiss, he a man.

And, men were evil.

If I allowed myself to become attached to him, he’d eventually hurt me. Having that knowledge allowed me to fuck him without fear of what the future held.

Because we were just fucking.

“Your cock feels like velvet,” I breathed.

He withdrew himself until the tip of his swollen dick cleared my pussy lips. His chin raised slightly. “Velvet?”

I drew a breath and then nodded eagerly. “Uh…huh.”

“Velvet’s soft and smooth.” His brows knitted together. “My cock’s like steel.”

It was like steel. But it was so very smooth, like velvet. I raised my eyebrows. “Velvet steel.”

He gave me a mild-mannered glare, gripped my ass firmly, and then slammed his entire length balls-deep. “Does that feel like fucking velvet?”

The tip of his dick felt like it was in my chest.

“Asshole,” I seethed. “You’re going to rip me apart.”

He pulled his hips back ever so gently. Then, without warning, he shoved every inch of his thick shaft into me, again.

He grinned a sly grin. “Velvet steel.”

I winced in pain. Being skewered by dick wasn’t a great feeling. “I mean it,” I said. “If you make me bleed...”

“Novices bleed.”

“Well, I’m definitely not a professional.”

His jaw tightened. “I’ll turn you into one.”

I gave him a look. “You’re going to make me a whore?”

He nodded. “My little whore.”

I wasn’t anyone’s property, nor would I ever be. I’d let him fantasize about me being a whore if it made him happy for the next ten minutes, so I offered no opposition to his claim.

“Shut up and fuck me,” I said dryly. “I was almost there.”

Holding me where my butt cheeks met my thighs, he spread me open wide in preparation for what was to come. In anticipation, I arched my back and closed my eyes. Then, slowly and predictably, he rowed his hips back and forth.

With each stroke I was stretched open one slow inch at a time, and I savored each one of them. Methodically, his massive girth slid in and out, bringing with it a sensation unlike anything I’d ever had the pleasure of feeling.

His cock was huge, but somehow it fit me perfectly. When we stopped fucking, and that day would eventually come, I feared I’d be ruined from ever finding anyone that could provide the level of sexual satisfaction Baker offered me.

At that moment, however, I didn’t want to think about not fucking him.

My back pounded against the wall as he fucked me, and fucked me, and fucked me. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to become immersed in the pleasure his thick cock gave me. Being fucked by Baker made me mindless, and I loved it. My surroundings seemed to diminish to nothing, leaving me hypersensitive to his every touch.

I opened my eyes. Eventually, his gaze met mine. I studied his face as his breathing changed from predictable to becoming choppy and unexpected. From my aching nipples to my swollen clit, a tingling began, increasing in intensity as it ran through me.

I felt his cock swell. The tell-tale sign of a man reaching orgasm, the feeling brought me to the brink of climax. The sounds of the traffic, his breathing, and our skin slapping together diminished to nothing. All that remained was the magical feeling of being filled with his dick.

As he reached peak of sexual satisfaction, the sounds of his pleasure pierced the silence. Almost immediately they were overshadowed by my own moaning. Certain the impending orgasm was going to be the one that ended my life, I took a tremendous chance. It was a risk, no doubt, but one that made perfect sense in my mindless state.

I raked my fingers through his hair, gripped the back of his head in my hands, and planted a kiss on him that made his kiss look like child play.

With our lips locked in a kiss and our tongues intertwined, we reached climax together. He erupted inside of me at the same time I began to shake from head to toe from the orgasm that took control of me.

When the convulsions ended, and the sound of our heavy breathing returned, I looked at him. It was easy to wish that something else was happening. That there was something between us that only we could share.

But there wasn’t.

We were just fucking.

I was simply enjoying it more than I ever had before.