She pulls back and releases me with a pop. She pumps her fist up my length a couple of times.

“This is selfish,” she says, reaching over me, her sharp nipples grazing my chest. She grabs a condom. “But you’re so hard. So big.” She groans, tipping her head back. “I’m so wet. I want you inside me right now. Do you mind?” She holds up a condom.

Do I mind that she wants to feel my cock inside her? Do I mind that she wants to feel me where she’s soft and warm and wet? Do I mind that she’s so fucking desperate for me?

My skin is so hot, we could toast marshmallows on my abs. I’ve never wanted anything more than to feel her on my cock again.

I go to take the condom from her, but she rips open the packet herself. “I want to.”

She rolls on the condom and my mind wanders to the real possibility that I might come, just from the feel of her fingers sliding on the condom. Fucking condom.

I push up on my elbows, ready to flip her to her back, but she presses her palm against my chest.

“I want to,” she repeats on a smile.

She kneels up, reaching for my sheathed cock, positioning it so I can feel her heat, her wetness.

“Oh god, Byron. What are you doing to me?”

“Fuck,” I splutter as she lowers herself onto me.

“I’m so wet,” she says. She smooths her hands up her body to her heavy breasts, cupping them, before taking my hands and replacing hers with mine. “How can I ask for what I want so easily with you?” She’s not looking for a response.

None of this makes sense. Not for either of us. There are so many reasons why this shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t think of any of them right now.

I squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples hard and mercilessly before releasing her as she groans.

She starts to move, her hips rolling forward and back, working my cock in a mesmerizing rhythm that pulls the air from my lungs. I can’t move. The rumble of my orgasm twists and circles. I don’t dare do a thing to encourage it. I just want to take in the glory of this woman on top of me, fucking me, making me see stars.

She slumps forward, her hands on my chest, bracing her body, but she doesn’t stop moving. “I’m so close,” she gasps.

I wait a second, two. Does she need something from me? I want her to ask. I like that she knows she can. She knows I like her asking for what she wants. “Tell me what you want,” I hiss out from my tensed jaw.

She grabs at my hand. “Touch me,” she gasps out. “Please.”