Free All This Time by Marie Wathen

about two seconds
away from climaxing. His filthy mouth, our chosen position, and the thoughts of
getting caught, have my body so wound up, I don’t think I can hold off much
longer.
    “I
need…” I moan softly while pushing down against him.
    Blues
wraps both arms around me and pulls my body off the door. Still tightly joined
together, he spins around, carrying me a few feet over to the large four-poster
bed. He lays me face down gently while kicking off his shoes and the jeans that
are bunching around his ankles.
    “Tell
me what you need,” he urges, thrusting once slowly into my wet center. “Do you
want to come, Sweetness?”
    “No,”
I groan loudly, my face buried into the thick comforter. I absolutely more than
want to come, I need it badly.
    Blues
pounds into me twice and my world begins to split apart from the need to come
before he stills again and asks, “Do you want to come now?” Fucking torture !
    I
shake my head passionately and groan out another no. He withdraws from me and
flips me over, tossing me like I weigh nothing into the center of the bed. He
snatches his shirt off then climbs on with me. Neon color glowing from a
charging station and clock sitting on the nightstand are the only lighting in
the otherwise pitch black room. I don’t need to see Blues’ nude to know that he
is an art sculptor’s wet dream. I can tell through the tailored clothing he’s
wearing that he works hard on his physique. To most women a man like Blues
would intimidate them with his amazing body, but I also work my body until it
is dead in the gym. Still, Blues is way different than just your average
muscle-head so a little bit of apprehension is justifiable. I crawl backward a
few inches, but he grabs my ankle and stops me.
    “Where
do you think you’re going?”
    He
edges all the way up my body, sinks between my legs and brings his face up. My
hands reach for him greedily. I run my fingers through his hair and guide his
mouth down to mine. Blues kisses me so sweetly and slowly, something happens at
this exact moment, I feel a strange lurching deep inside my chest. It’s an odd
sensation. I can’t really put my finger on it, but when I open my eyes again,
finding him staring at me I feel it a second time. He pulls his lips away from
me, but not his eyes.
    “Angel,”
he whispers, bringing his right hand up to my face and digging his fingers into
my hair. Tilting my head back he kisses me softly again. A snapping sound, like
a rubber band stretched too tightly on a mechanical device is released and one
rapid fire shot echoes in my mind alerting me that this is wrong and must stop.
    Stroking
his thumb over my bottom lip Blues states, “God, you are perfect.”
    “No,”
I hiss back. Anger rises in my stomach replacing the near euphoric state he had
me in only moments before, causing me to growl when I demand, “Fuck me.”
    Wordlessly,
with both hands framing my face and his eyes latched onto mine, he forces his
cock fully into me. I slam my arms down on the bed, wrap my legs around his
waist, drawing him in deeper and he growls as I thrust upward. Breaking eye
contact finally, his eyes roll back behind his closed lids and he bites down
hard on his lip, suppressing another loud moan the best he can. His rhythm is
chaotic. There is no more taunting with the driving force that Blues is fucking
me with now, and that’s the way I need it.
    “Fuck
baby, I’m close,” he groans, dropping his head and laying it against my chest.
Sliding both arms underneath mine, he runs his hands under my back and grips
them over the top of my shoulders. The force of him pulling me down to him
while diving over and over into me surges my build up from a flicker to
catastrophic, and within seconds I explode into ruins.
    “Yes,
yes…” I groan through my shattering.
    Blues
covers my mouth with his, stealing away the last of my moans. Forcing himself
down into me once more, he reaches his own disaster and growls his pleased
state