stomach muscles quivered, and she shook under the erotic image. It felt naughty, forbidden, to watch herself getting fucked. But damn—another groan ripped free as he fisted his cock near the flared base—she couldn’t turn away from the mirror’s reflection. “Your pussy’s so fucking drenched. Like hot cream. Like you’re melting around my dick…”
The dual stimulation of his sexy words and witnessing her own fucking pushed her so close to orgasm, she shook under the whip of lust. Tiny flicks of pleasure lashed her clit, and her pussy rippled around his thick cock. She wanted to come.
As if sensing her heightened need, he surged forward. He buried his length inside her, and his thighs pressed tight to her legs and the lower curves of her ass. Pleasure tore a cry from her throat, and she bucked helplessly against the hard thrust.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Fuck my cock, pretty girl.” He fell forward, palms flat against the dark mahogany headboard. It didn’t seem possible that he had more cock to give her, but God, it felt as if he’d pushed deeper into her pussy and nudged the mouth of her womb. He grunted, and his hips pressed forward, grinding against her ass. He slid one hand between her thighs and plucked her clit.
She screamed.
The sound seemed to snap the binding that tethered his control. With a low, animalistic growl, he fucked her like a stallion covering his mare. His ass clenched and released as he rode her hard, slamming into her with thrust after thrust. She cried out with each stroke, urging him on, begging for more. God. More.
The orgasm pummeled her like a battering ram. No slow buildup, no undulation of pleasure to signal its arrival. Just a crash of ecstasy. A shattering of self.
Then nothing.
***
Oh. Shit.
Rowyn Jeong cast a glance down her body to the heavy arm roped across her waist. Her heart thumped. The shallow gasps of breath that escaped her lips seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room as her gaze skipped up an arm, over a shoulder, and landed on a long expanse of delectable skin.
Jesus. She sighed and then cringed as it seemed to echo in the room like a shout across the Grand Canyon. Muscles tense, she lay frozen, as if she were engaged in some twisted erotic version of Red Light, Green Light. For several long moments, she remained still, her gaze pinned on the naked man next to her, searching for any sign of wakefulness. After several seconds that stretched like a millennium, she inched from under the arm.
Scoot. Pause. Breathe. Scoot. Pause. Breathe. She repeated the pattern until an arm, hip, then leg dangled over the edge of the mattress like limp spaghetti. One more scoot, and she slid free. Unable to halt her momentum, she flailed, and her ass hit the floor with a thump.
Damn.
She shut her eyes and dropped her chin.
Just Damn.
She risked a peek over the side of the bed, and her inspection took in the still form. His arm stretched across the snowy sheet. His chest continued to rise and fall, undisturbed. She didn’t look away as she inched away from the bed, the man in it, and memories of the night she’d just passed. A flash of heat licked over her skin, and the swollen, well-used flesh between her thighs quivered.
She had to get out of here. Like, pronto.
In a hushed flurry of activity, Rowyn jumped to her feet and circled the room, snatching up clothing that had been hastily discarded earlier in the evening. Panties in her fist—how the hell had they ended up hanging from the lamp shade?—she scurried from the dark room. With a speed that smacked more of desperation than skill, she yanked on her underwear, followed by the black sweater and skirt.
On bare feet, she darted down the shadowed hall and into the living room. Minutes later, a taxi had been requested on her cell phone, her purse was over her shoulder, and her boots and coat had been dragged on. As she headed toward the front door, she paused in front of the hall mirror and glanced
The dual stimulation of his sexy words and witnessing her own fucking pushed her so close to orgasm, she shook under the whip of lust. Tiny flicks of pleasure lashed her clit, and her pussy rippled around his thick cock. She wanted to come.
As if sensing her heightened need, he surged forward. He buried his length inside her, and his thighs pressed tight to her legs and the lower curves of her ass. Pleasure tore a cry from her throat, and she bucked helplessly against the hard thrust.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Fuck my cock, pretty girl.” He fell forward, palms flat against the dark mahogany headboard. It didn’t seem possible that he had more cock to give her, but God, it felt as if he’d pushed deeper into her pussy and nudged the mouth of her womb. He grunted, and his hips pressed forward, grinding against her ass. He slid one hand between her thighs and plucked her clit.
She screamed.
The sound seemed to snap the binding that tethered his control. With a low, animalistic growl, he fucked her like a stallion covering his mare. His ass clenched and released as he rode her hard, slamming into her with thrust after thrust. She cried out with each stroke, urging him on, begging for more. God. More.
The orgasm pummeled her like a battering ram. No slow buildup, no undulation of pleasure to signal its arrival. Just a crash of ecstasy. A shattering of self.
Then nothing.
***
Oh. Shit.
Rowyn Jeong cast a glance down her body to the heavy arm roped across her waist. Her heart thumped. The shallow gasps of breath that escaped her lips seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room as her gaze skipped up an arm, over a shoulder, and landed on a long expanse of delectable skin.
Jesus. She sighed and then cringed as it seemed to echo in the room like a shout across the Grand Canyon. Muscles tense, she lay frozen, as if she were engaged in some twisted erotic version of Red Light, Green Light. For several long moments, she remained still, her gaze pinned on the naked man next to her, searching for any sign of wakefulness. After several seconds that stretched like a millennium, she inched from under the arm.
Scoot. Pause. Breathe. Scoot. Pause. Breathe. She repeated the pattern until an arm, hip, then leg dangled over the edge of the mattress like limp spaghetti. One more scoot, and she slid free. Unable to halt her momentum, she flailed, and her ass hit the floor with a thump.
Damn.
She shut her eyes and dropped her chin.
Just Damn.
She risked a peek over the side of the bed, and her inspection took in the still form. His arm stretched across the snowy sheet. His chest continued to rise and fall, undisturbed. She didn’t look away as she inched away from the bed, the man in it, and memories of the night she’d just passed. A flash of heat licked over her skin, and the swollen, well-used flesh between her thighs quivered.
She had to get out of here. Like, pronto.
In a hushed flurry of activity, Rowyn jumped to her feet and circled the room, snatching up clothing that had been hastily discarded earlier in the evening. Panties in her fist—how the hell had they ended up hanging from the lamp shade?—she scurried from the dark room. With a speed that smacked more of desperation than skill, she yanked on her underwear, followed by the black sweater and skirt.
On bare feet, she darted down the shadowed hall and into the living room. Minutes later, a taxi had been requested on her cell phone, her purse was over her shoulder, and her boots and coat had been dragged on. As she headed toward the front door, she paused in front of the hall mirror and glanced
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