“Fuck,” he breathes.
Our moans of pleasure and harsh breathing fill the room. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. Drake’s hand slides down the back of my thigh. Hooking his fingers beneath my knee, he hoists my leg around his waist and cups my ass. Awareness slides through me at his confident touch. I untangle my hands from his hair, grip the back of his shirt, and pull it off. My fingers trace a path down his back, and then I slide them over his six-pack. I dip them into the front of his scrub pants and find his cock hard. My legs quiver as I find a bead of pre-cum gathered at the tip. I wrap my fingers around his long, thick shaft.
“Fuck yeah,” he moans, thrusting into my hips.
Heat bubbles low in my belly. The ache for more urges me to pulse my hips in rhythm with his. I stroke him from base to tip as we grind against each other. But it isn’t enough.
“I need more. Please, Drake. I need you to fuck me.”
* * * *
Drake
This woman is going to be the death of me. If the lush scent of her body wasn’t enough to turn me on, her soft little moans would definitely tip me over the edge. My blood is pumping with need, but even though she’s begging me to fuck her, I can’t. Not yet at least.
I reach for Abigail’s pants. She lifts her hips, and I yank them off, along with her panties. My beautiful angel is laid out before me.
“Drake…” Abigail’s whispered pleas spur me on, and I shoulder my way between her thighs. Curling my arms around her knees, I spread her apart while pulling her toward me. Her clit is swollen, and when I circle it with my tongue, she cries out in pleasure.
“Oh, God, Drake. Please…” Her words fade into a whimper, causing my cock to jerk.
I run my tongue up her slit. When I cover her clit with my lips and suck rhythmically, Abigail’s legs begin to tremble. Her knees fall open, and I accept the invitation by sliding two fingers deep into her body.
My fingers pump in rhythm with my tongue. I work her slowly at first and then speed up—licking, sucking, and tasting my sweet girl. I push her until she’s writhing beneath me, and it doesn’t take long until she loses control.
Her hands grip the back of my head, locking into my hair as she pushes my face against her core. Her body convulses, thighs tightening around my head as she bathes my tongue in her sweet, warm scent.
If I don’t get inside of her in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to explode. When her legs relax, I sit up, and we both work frantically to get my pants and boxers off. Her body is still trembling when I cover it with my own.
A rush of air pushes from her lungs when I slide inside her with one deep thrust. Tight—she’s so tight my vision blurs, but I don’t stop. She’s every fantasy come to life, and she’s mine. The need to claim her, mark her as mine, grows with each thrust until I find myself pumping harder and deeper. She accepts everything I give her.
“Harder,” she begs, her head dropping back onto the couch. She raises her hips, leaving them in the air, and the shift allows me farther into her body. I want to slow down a few notches, milk this moment for all it is, but I’m too far gone.
Abigail’s body squirms against mine, wild and frantic, chasing something only I can provide. She does something that causes her muscles to tighten around me.
“Oh, fuck,” I tell her. “Do that again.”
She continues to contract her muscles, each time sucking me in. A tingle of awareness starts low in my spine, working its way up. A gentle pressure unfolding causes warmth to radiate throughout my body. Abigail claws at my back, chasing her release while my own builds to the point of explosion.
“Don’t stop,” she moans, rocking her hips.
I pull back and plunge forward, over and over again.
Her body tenses beneath mine, and then there’s a flood of moisture. “Oh, Drake. Oh, God, yes. Just like that. Keep going.” Her hips buck as she rides out her bliss.
Triumph pumps through me, sending me hurtling over the edge. I bury my face in the crook of her neck as waves of pleasure crash over me.
By the time her body stops shuddering, I’m too exhausted to move. We stay like
this for several long seconds, and then I push up onto my elbows. Abigail looks sated, her eyes hooded. She’s wearing a crooked smile.
“So, that was make-up sex?” she asks, running her fingers through my hair.
“I guess so.”
Her eyes drift shut. “Remind me to pick fights with you more often.”
“I don’t like it when we fight,” I admit.