Page 17 of The Temporary Fiancée
He chuckles at that. “Maybe. But not too big for you. You feel fucking incredible.”
I nod, his words washing over me like warm honey. I have no idea if he’s right, but I want him to be. I want to take all of him, to keep seeing that look on his face—like he’s drunk on me, like this is the best thing he’s ever felt.
He doesn’t rush, and after a while my body starts to get used to the stretch. I widen my thighs, inviting him deeper, and he nips at my lower lip as he thrusts slowly again. When he’s all the way in, he pauses with his forehead resting against mine, breathing through it for a few seconds before he starts to move. He fucks me like a man who knowsexactlywhat he’s doing, sliding in and out with long, deep strokes that have my eyes rolling back.
It’s better than every dirty daydream I’ve ever had. He fills me to the fucking brim, hitting angles I didn’t know existed, and the way he talks while he does it lights me up from the inside out.
“This pussy is fucking perfect,” he rasps, and I can only moan in response as he picks up the pace a little. He keeps murmuring filthy praise in my ear, and my eyelids drift partially closed, my entire body so consumed by pleasure that I almost feel like I’m floating.
But then he says, “Such a good girl. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
My eyes pop open, my pulse skipping. “Um…” I shake my head. “Actually, I—I can’t. I don’t usually come from sex like this. It’s okay, though. It feels really good, and you already got me off.”
He stops moving and pulls back to look at me, his expression almost insulted.
“You don’t usually come from sex?”
“I mean…” I trail off. God, this is embarrassing. Should we have had this conversation before he was inside me? “I can’t finish from just, uh, penetration. It’s more… clit stuff that does it for me. So I don’t really come during sex.”
His brows are still drawn together, and he narrows his eyes. “Okay. That’s not a problem at all. But the fact that you think those two things are mutually exclusive means you haven’t been with the right man yet. Lay back.”
I blink, confused but a bit curious, and do what he says, propping myself up on my elbows. He keeps one hand on my hip and slides the other between us, his thumb finding my clit. He starts to move again, slower this time, working my clit directly with his thumb in time with his thrusts.
“Is that good?”
I nod, staring up at the ceiling as my vision blurs. “Y-yes.”
“Good. Now look down. I want you to see how you deserve to be fucked.”
My heart hammers as I lift my head to look down at the place where we’re connected. It’s filthy and hot, the sight of him sliding in and out of me as he works my clit, and the sight of it sends a jolt of white-hot arousal through me.
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
“Not god. Just the guy who’s gonna make sure you come at least twice tonight. Nah, fuck that. At least five times.”
He picks up the pace as he speaks, his thumb working me harder, and despite what I said about not coming during penetrative sex, pleasure starts to build low inside me again, the combination of the friction on my clit and the fullness in my pussy sending an onslaught of sensations racing through me. It honestly never occurred to me to ask a guy to do this during sex,and I do feel a little let down by the fact that no one else I’ve been with has ever offered.
Because Reed is definitely going to make me come again.
He keeps up a steady, even pace, but I can tell he’s holding back a little. His jaw is tight, his lips pulled back a little as the muscles in his neck strain, and he’s breathing harder and faster as I start to squirm a little on the countertop.
“There you go,” he encourages, his gaze locked on me, tracking every movement. “You’ve got it. Relax into it. Don’t chase it, just let it come.”
“Okay,” I breathe, nodding and trying to relax. When I do, something strange happens, a fresh rush of pleasure surging through me as I breathe more deeply. Reed nods, his thumb flying over my clit now.
“That’s fucking perfect. You close?”
I nod again, little whimpers and mewls pouring from my lips.
“Good girl.” He presses harder, intensifying the sensation. “Come on, Olivia. Come for me.”
The orgasm hits me like a wrecking ball, crashing through me with a force I’m not prepared for. I cry out and grab his arms, and he curses under his breath, his rhythm finally breaking. I don’t know if he meant to come right after me, but I can see the moment it happens. With a few more hard thrusts, his features contort with pleasure, a low groan filling the kitchen as he buries himself impossibly deep. His cocks twitches and pulses, and he grunts softly as he fills up the condom.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard. He drops his forehead to my shoulder and presses a kiss to the curve of my neck.
“So,” he says against my skin. “Distracted enough yet?”
I huff out a laugh, trying to catch my breath. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
