Page 94 of The Storm

He pulls out a bit then pushes back in. He does it again. And again. And then he angles his hips and on the next slow thrust, his cock is nudging the same sensitive spot inside me that made me see stars earlier.

There’s a part of me that still insists this is weird. I’m hyperaware of every inch of Nick’s cock as it slides into me.

He rocks his way inside me a small thrust at a time. Out again. In again.

His next stroke in long and slow. All the way out. All the way in. The angle is measured with precision again, and my whole body goes haywire with pleasure.

He starts to move faster.

I reach back and grab the back of his neck. His teeth latch on to my shoulder.

“Harder,” I gasp.

He doesn’t ask if I’m sure. Instead, he does something way hotter. He takes my word for it.

On his next thrust, he slams into me.

He starts to fuck me like he means it.

A thick heat gathers inside me, and each snap of his hips stokes that fire.

My thoughts are obliterated, scattering into fragments.

Loud grunts and groans fill the room.

Everything about this moment is hard and animalistic and primal.

He slides his hand around my neck and pulls my head back before he leans over and kisses me. Our tongues tangle as Nick thrusts into me over and over again, and I grab my dick.

Nick growls from deep in his chest. His thrusts go harder, and I’m fisting my cock more than jerking it, the pressure building and building like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It comes from new places. Places that have never been touched by anybody else. Just him.

Nick’s fucking me so hard the bed is moving. He’s holding me down. Shoving into me. This kind of pleasure is new, too.

It’s a vicious, raw kind of pleasure, and I’m going to come. Oh fuck, I’m going to come. I have to?—

I come in a blinding rush. Cum coats my hand in pulse after pulse, and I’m shaking and shivering, finding it difficult to keep my body upright.

Nick stiffens behind me for a moment. He pushes into me so hard it’s like he’s trying to crawl inside me, then he comes with a hoarse shout, fingertips digging into my skin, dick jerking inside me.

Nothing about the orgasms we wring out of each other is gentle or soft. It’s fucking. It’s the kind of sex that’s primal and wild.

And I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after this.

It takesa while for me to come back to reality. I become aware of everything bit by bit. The sound of Nick’s heavy breathing against the shell of my ear. The feel of him on top of me and the cool night air coming in from the cracked window. Nick’s hand gently playing with my hair.

It’s impossibly peaceful.

The knowledge settles over me like a soft, warm blanket.

That this? This is something special.

It’s something extraordinary and unique and significant and perfect andspecial.

Neither of us says anything.

Probably because there’s nothingtosay. Nothing that’d make any of this smaller. Or simpler. Or less significant than it is.

TWENTY-FIVE