And then he stops.

So does my heart. I look up at him, a bit dazed and very much confused. “Why are you stopping?”

He doesn’t answer, just climbs onto the seat beside me, then lifts my hips and guides me into position on my hands and knees.

My heart does a somersault.

He drags up the material, running a hand over my hip before grabbing it and holding on to me. I hear rustling fabric, feel his masculine heat as he moves up behind me.

I brace my weight on my hands and knees, flushing as he shoves the dress higher and I know my whole bottom half is exposed.

He brings his cock to my entrance, teasing me with the head of it. He uses it to spread me and tease me once, twice, three times before easing in.

My pussy is slick and ready for him. I sink to my forearms but keep my butt up as he pushes in deeper. I close my eyes when his hand moves appreciatively over the curve of my ass as he pushes his cock a little deeper.

I don’t think he’s wearing a condom, but I don’t care. I want to feel every inch of him inside me, no barriers. I want to know what it’s like to be fucked by him, and I want to be left a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty skin. I want to feel his cum leaking out of me as he holds me against his chest and kisses my forehead in the aftermath.

God, I want this man.

My pussy clenches around him as he shoves in all the way to the hilt. I feel so full. So full of him. It’s incredible.

And then he begins to move. The friction of his thick cock against my walls nearly undoes me. I was already so turned on, already so tense and needy from when he licked my pussy and didn’t let me finish. I’m a mess of want and need as he drives into me and withdraws, as he grips my hips and slaps my ass and fucks me like a man possessed.

I’m sweaty and shaky and I can’t trust my own voice. It cracks at least half the times I whimper and cry out. The pleasure is agonizing. I twist and plant my face against the seat, my nails digging into the expensive upholstery. His powerful thrusts slam me back and forth, so I have to hold on to something.

“Please,” I cry out, sounding caught someplace between ecstasy and misery. And I was.

“You want to come on my cock, beautiful?”

His coaxing tone rolled over my frayed nerves like honey. Compliments from him are always hard-won, so being called beautiful is like dousing the flames of pleasure with gasoline. “Yes. God, yes.”

I expect him to pick up the pace, to fuck me even harder and drive me home.