No More Mr Nice Guy – Amy Andrews
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“You want some…Neanderthal…to fuck you in some sleazy alley?”
Josie gasped, shocked out of her state of confusion by his blatant vulgarity. Part of her rebelled at his choice of words. But part of her thrilled to hear the guttural profanity. And then he stepped in real close and ground himself against her. Her eyes widened at the hard press of his erection against the softness of her belly, like an iron bar.
A very big iron bar.
Where her heart beat wildly before out of outrage and uncertainty, now, it was beating for an entirely different reason as warmth flooded her pelvis and beaded her nipples into tight points.
The signals weren’t mixed anymore. She knew what this was, what he was doing.
And it didn’t feel nice. Or safe. It felt outrageous and edgy and thrilling.
So very, very right.
And she wanted it.
Yes. She wanted him to fuck her in this sleazy alley very, very badly.
The blood in her veins became sludgy as everything slowed down, the atmosphere becoming charged with something way more potent than just anger.
“Well?” he insisted, grinding again, his mouth close to her ear, sending shivers down her neck.
Josie moaned. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t call it back. But neither could she form a coherent word. Her throat was thick with lust, closing it off, making communication impossible.
“You want some of this?” His whisper was harsh, enraged still, as he guided one of her wrists down. All the way down to the hard bulge pressing against his zipper.
It filled her palm, and whether it was a reflex or not, she squeezed.
The suck of his breath in her ear sent a shot of satisfaction to her belly and tightened her nipples even harder. She moved restlessly against his chest, trying to relieve the delightful pain of it.
“You want my cock ramming into you, standing against this door?” His voice may have been low, but it was harsh. His questions weren’t playful or teasing; they were meant to shock.
With absolutely no shame, because she was so damned turned on she didn’t care, Josie rubbed back hard against him in response.
Another indrawn breath in her ear, rough and low, tugged at fibers deep down inside her.
“You want me to get your tits out in this alley?”
Josie whimpered her permission as she sucked in her own ragged gasp at his blatantly sexual enquiry. Her nostrils filled with the smell of him, fresh and clean and that certain something she couldn’t define, but it was virile and mushroomed through her body with an all-consuming roar.
With his body still pinning her to the door, his hands found the front of her blouse. He made short work of the buttons and then pulled the fabric aside.
She liked the way his eyes glazed over as he looked at her breasts, encased in the black and white polka-dot bra, like they were his own personal toys. He lifted his eyes.
Still, she couldn’t speak; she could only feel. The heat building like a furnace between them, the tug of desire dissolving her from the inside out, the evidence of his arousal rigid and potent in her hand.
She kneaded him harder.
He shut his eyes, and his forehead dropped to her collarbone. “What about this?” he asked.
His voice was muffled, but his intent soon became clear as his hand breeched the hem of her fluttery skirt, and hot fingers stroked up her thigh, right to her center, pushing aside her underwear and boldly stroking.
Josie cried out as heat streaked everywhere. Her belly coiled tight, and for one shocking second, she thought she was going to orgasm on the spot.
He lifted his head, and she could see hostility, determination, and arousal in his eyes all in equal measure. “You want more?”
Josie gasped as the husky taunt scraped over her skin like ultra-fine sandpaper, and she nodded.
Bass throbbed between her shoulder blades as a subtle reminder that they were very much in public, despite the privacy of the doorway, but she didn’t care. A patron might try and exit at any moment and see her shirt gaping and Mack’s hand up her skirt, but she didn’t care about that, either.
She cried out as he plunged a finger inside her, her hand grasping his sleeve, her head flung back against the door.
She heard him, but it was somewhere above her, floating. Somewhere beyond the delicious realm of pleasure centered around his finger inside her.
The sound was more insistent this time, and she opened her eyes, falling straight into the olive green of his.
“Say yes,” he said as his finger eased in and out at a maddeningly slow pace.
Josie went one better. If there was a time for being bold, then it was now, and she wanted this. She let go of the delicious handful she had of him and reached for his zipper, then pulled down the tab.
“Yes,” she said, finally finding her voice. “I want you to fuck me in this alley.”
Moment of Impact – Karen Stivali
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Buy Links : Amazon
Tanner broke away again, panting hard this time. His forehead stayed pressed against mine, his breath warm and fast on my lips. He tugged at my shirt, and I reached behind myself and yanked it off, tossing it to the ground.
I shivered, but it had nothing to do with being cold. Tanner ran his hand down my chest, and my abs bunched so tight they nearly cramped. My hips arched up of their own accord, and the tip of my cock bumped against his wrist. I almost came right then. Just from that little bit of contact. He wrapped his hand around me and stroked all the way down, slow and deliberate, putting just enough pressure at the base that I was able to focus. As I closed my eyes, I forced myself to breathe. Don’t come. Not yet. All the times I’d wanted this swirled through my head like a storm of erotic images. A pornado of fantasies. And not once did that fantasy include me blowing my load after a single stroke.
Tanner made a tentative pass up my cock with his thumb, sending my blood straight back to the boiling point. “Christ, you’re hard.”
I’d never heard his voice so low. Thick and rumbly. Like I needed anything to turn me on more than I already was. I tried to think of something to say in response, but before my brain could kick into gear, Tanner’s mouth was back on mine and thoughts weren’t even a possibility. Tongue. That was the only word I could remember, and even that one blurred as his rolled around mine.
He tugged at my shorts, and I helped shove them far enough down my legs that I could kick them off. I don’t remember lying down, but I must have, because the cool sheets were bunching under my back as Tanner’s body pressed me against the bed. Sound seemed layered— hearts pounding, breaths rasping, Tanner’s low groans. Sticky wetness echoed with each movement. Somewhere beneath it all, the faint squeak of the bed kept time with us.
Tanner ground his cock alongside mine, pressing into my stomach as I bucked against him. Hard thighs bracketed my hips, and he rolled us onto our sides, still thrusting.
“Fuck, Collin. You feel so fucking good.” His mouth moved to my neck as his hand slipped between us, wrapping around both of us. Our cocks rubbed together, surrounded by the warmth of his hand. Up and down and up and down, all that heat sliding back and forth. His teeth grazed my throat.
I wanted to touch him. Wanted to kiss him. Wanted to do anything, but I was lost in the sensations. My breath huffed out in giant wordless puffs. I ground my head against the pillow, fighting for air or control or anything I could find, but there was nothing. Nothing besides Tanner’s cock and mouth and hand.
Coming wasn’t an option—it was an imperative. A need. I tried to hold back, but the pressure was too great. I crested past the point of no return, not even wanting to look back, aching for release. The first shot pulsed out of me so hard and fast, I wasn’t even sure it had really happened, and then the feeling crashed over me. Waves of pleasure knocked me sideways, then swept me under as the rest unleashed.
Hot, thick bursts painted my chest, running down my ribs as Tanner continued to pump. My head jerked up with the final burst, and I caught my first glimpse of what was happening. Tanner’s dark hair swung low over his face. He was watching too. Watching me come. Watching our cocks move together as he stroked them. He uncurled his hand for a second, letting my cock slip free as he gripped his own, increasing the speed and thrusting into his fist.
The moan that rumbled through him made my balls clench again.
“Fuck,” he whispered, throwing me a look so full of lust and desperation, I grabbed his head and pulled it toward me.
My mouth crashed against his, and I felt his body tense as the first shot blasted out of him. I kissed him, hard, swallowing his groans as he emptied himself all over us. The tension ebbed from him, and he leaned into the kiss, tongue deeper in my mouth, spirals slower, exploring. He broke away once, twice, but each time he came back, like when you’re full but the food’s so damn good you want just one more bite. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be food. I wanted to be a goddamned buffet.
And I wanted him to devour me.
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