Bedwrecker(10)

By: Kim Karr



Reaching for him once again, I am ready to fuse more than our mouths.

Fast as sin, he captures both of my wrists with his hands and pushes my arms over my head. My fingers curl over the headboard as I gaze into his eyes. Even though I am not accustomed to men selecting sexual positions for me, I hold on.

Like lightning, he strikes and positions himself on top of me. Once there he uses his arms to keep from crushing me. Like this, his cock nudges me, and oh God, I feel tiny tremors all through my body.

So ready for this, I part my legs for him and tilt my hips to allow him entrance. He rubs his tip over my pussy, pushing in a little before lowering onto his forearms and reaching between us to guide himself inside me.

I moan when he’s all the way in, and he does too. Louder, with a sound more ferocious than I’ve ever heard from any man.

His thrusts are deep, quick, and feel so good. He moves. I move. The rhythm is automatic. It is as if we know each other’s body, when clearly we do not. Yet, there is no fumbling or guessing. Just two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.

He fucks me fast, and then faster still. Slow is not on the table right now. When he pushes up onto his hands to drive his cock deeper, I open wider, and wider still until I’m wrapping my feet around him, all the while my hands continuing to grip the headboard.

He said he wanted to fuck me, and that is exactly what he is doing.

Moving.

Moving.

Moving.

In the spirit of adjusting to make each thrust better than the last, he slides his hands beneath my ass to tilt me against him. And God, the delicious friction has my body climbing higher and higher and higher still.

Giving.

Taking.

His eyes never leave mine, not even when he readjusts our position again, this time to slide a hand between us to stroke my clit in time with his thrusts.

That’s when I really start to tip into the swirling oblivion of orgasm and I can’t hold onto the bed any longer. Letting go, I rake my nails down his back, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave my mark.

Words are said by him. By me. I don’t know what or who. All I know is I’m on the edge, higher than I have ever been. Insane pleasure whipping through my body, it’s practically animalistic in nature.

It’s like we’re moving in the most feral way.

Harder.

Faster.

More desperately.

Losing myself in sweet nothingness, I feel the pleasure wash through me in shimmering rays of color, and then I’m coming in long, rippling waves, calling out his name, and God only knows what else.

“Keep your eyes open,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Trembling from head to toe, I open my eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them. As soon as I see his face, his come face, I start to unravel all over again, riding those waves for as long as they’ll carry me.

Keen shudders and his impending climax strikes. I watch everything about him: the strain on his face, the lowering of his brows, the way his eyes first squint and then practically roll back in his head, the way his mouth parts in a perfect O to let out his groan.

Once his climax has left its mark, instead of rolling off me, his arms slide beneath me and he clutches me tight. The warmth of this bed is like a blanket that I don’t want to take off. And when he burrows his face harder into my skin, I press my head against him to feel even more. When I do, he just holds me and holds me.

Soon, though, maybe too soon, he pushes himself off me to roll to the side with one arm and leg thrown over my body. “Holy fuck,” he says, his voice gravelly, sex-stained.

“Yeah, holy fuck is right.”

Almost giddy, we smile and look into each other’s eyes, probably both reliving what just took place.

It was intense.

Raw.

Real.

Insanely hot.

Once both of our breathing is almost back to normal, Keen moves to get rid of the condom in a nearby trash can and then resumes his position right beside me.

I turn my body a little more. “So, angel or devil?” I ask.

His hand is moving lazily up and down my side in smooth, flat strokes, and he pauses to look over his shoulder, then turns back with a grin. “By the blood dripping down my back, I wouldn’t say angel, and devil is pushing it. I’m going with bedwrecker, just like the song says.”

A little thrilled by his name for me, I can’t even address that until the issue of bodily harm is cleared up. I make a low noise of disbelief. “I did not scratch deep enough to cut open your skin.”

“You most certainly did.” He twists to turn the light on and show me. Sure enough, there are deep scratches there.

I sit up with the intention of jumping up and grabbing him a washcloth. “Oh, my God, I did that?”

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