Free A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) by Jennifer Willows

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    “Good. I want you hungry.” His statement was clear and left no doubt he was being anything other than brutally honest. Marq shuttled his hips in tiny rotating motions, gouging digs of cock, similar to scraping a spoon in the belly of a bowl for the last vestiges of ice cream.
    “Oh!” She felt his cockhead butt her cervix when she jerked and shuddered in his arms, before her back scraped along the wall.
    Jamison was lost, and need burned through every vein she possessed. He was too large, more than she’d ever taken. His thick cock seemed immense and angry with blood as she watched each retreat from her spongy sex. The back and forth riposte of thrusts left her gasping, and for once in her life she didn’t make the attempt to control her stammer. The only words that she spoke with any clarity were for more of his punishing strokes. With every plea from her lips, Marques only responded with his hips. His gaze was brutal, as if she were stripped bare for his every desire. But he never once spoke other than to vocalize a groan or grunt in cadence with their vertical mating.
    Jamison knew she was chatty enough for both of them. Every touch made her crazy, needy, and wanting more of it. Each thrust left her begging for mercy, even as he refused to give quarter. The best part was she wanted no mercy from his drilling strokes, digging deeper with every pass of cock and slurping wet snatch. She shuddered and laid her head against the wall as he popped her with his motions. The next sensation she registered was the wall as her back scraped the rough drywall softened only by the beige paint that coated its surface. Marq shimmed hotly against her in one full-body pass ending with his lips meeting hers roughly. His hips moved nonstop, sibilated inside her. She was lost, and her body was his for the moment. There was no work required on her part at all, and gravity took care of most of the job for her. She merely followed him, let his body push her farther up the wall. She couldn’t even look at him, and the way he made her feel was too intense for words, let alone to experience.
     
    * * * *
     
    Marq was engrossed in the wet clasp of walls and stunned at how vocal she was. He loved it, listening to her groan and stammer for more. She was a turning out to be a bit of a mystery. With her near-cloistered life, she dressed to camouflage every appealing trait she had. But beneath the skin she was ready to burn. He could see the real Jamie crawling to get out. Jamison made him nuts, and he found he was unable to even speak to her now. She was a woman on fire, flamed over and around him with passion. But unknowingly she refused him the one thing he needed to make this moment Kodak worthy. He needed to see her worse than he required another breath. The look in her eyes would complete the gritty fuck he served her. Marq swallowed, opening his sandpaper dry mouth to speak for the first time since he sank in her sword-swallowing sheath.
    “Look at me.” She complied, giving him what he waited for. Her gaze was wet, burning him through. God she would be beautiful on camera. The word was too weak to describe the look in her eyes, it couldn’t capture the way her eyes spoke volumes. Her eyes were starving, needy and he let the heat in her face burn through him. He watched her bite her lips as if trying to hold herself back from him. When his mouth touched hers it was an automatic response to quell the abuse to the ripe, red, plush skin. But he was less gentle than he wanted to be and treated the lower lip the same way she had. Roughly. But the gasp that she squeaked into his lips told him how much she liked the harsh need carried with his kiss. The sex became too good, and their kiss became a mutual groan eaten by their hungry mouths.
    He listened to her beg him to end it. “Stop–p…please.” He would comply, just to fuck with her a little. Then with the next breath she would ask him for the opposite. “P–p–please,