Free Seduce Me Tonight by Kristina Wright Page B

reeling with thoughts but my mouth couldn’t form a coherent response. I whimpered. I felt a primal need to scream, to cry out in longing. Finally, in a voice I didn’t recognise, I gasped, ‘Please, Christopher. Please, fuck me. Please.’
    He thrust into me then, that one powerful stroke driving me nearly halfway across the wide expanse of the bed. ‘Yes!’
    ‘Please, please, please,’ I continued to plead even though he was giving me what I wanted, for fear he would stop if I stopped begging.
    He drove himself into me, over and over, driving all reason out of my mind in the process. I could feel his emotions in his thrusts, there was nothing aloof or distant in the way he fucked me, no walls between us. He was raw with lust and need that were as real and as strong as mine. I took what he gave, but I gave in return – thrusting back against him, clenching my muscles tightly around him, working my hand down between my legs to rub his balls and stroke his wet shaft as he slid out of me.
    We were equals here in this mind-space of emotional desire and physical release, equals and halves, completing each other in a way no other could. At least in a way no one else could for me. The idea that Christopher might feel this connection with anyone else was enough to stop my heart in my chest, but I knew, I felt, that there could be no other. Between the narrow space of his true self and the wall he kept up so much of the time, there was no room for anyone except me. Only me.
    It was only in moments like this, only when he was lost inside me, that I truly felt like he was mine, that I had all of him, including his heart. I was torn between needing to come and wanting to make it last as long as I could. My need, denied too long, won out. Orgasm washed over me, tingling up from my belly and spreading along my skin, making my cunt wetter and my nipples harder, making my muscles go rigid and my neck arch.
    I screamed his name as I came, panting raggedly like a woman in labour. He let me come alone and I knew he was listening to me, watching me, memorising every detail of my physical response. Noting the way I gasped when he slid halfway out of my clenching cunt, the way I arched my back even harder and pushed against him to keep him inside of me. The way I whimpered and trembled like a newborn pup when he shoved his cock into me again, filling the space he had left.
    When my orgasm had faded to the faintest of ripples, he gave three short, deep thrusts and came with a guttural moan. His cock swelled and throbbed inside me as his breath quickened and his hands tightened on my hips, enough to leave bruises in their wake. I felt him go still and tense behind me, his chest draped over my lower back as he came down from the rush of release.
    At last he pulled away from my damp body and I collapsed on my stomach. After such a feeling of fullness, I felt bereft at his absence. No amount of time was ever enough to feel him inside of me. At least, I hadn’t experienced it yet.
    He stretched out on the bed and I rolled towards him, a hand still clenched between my damp thighs. I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as his breathing evened out. I reached out to lay a hand on his chest, over his heart, but I pulled away.
    ‘Christopher, do you love me?’
    He glanced at me the way a man might glance at another passenger on a bus, as if suddenly realising he’s not alone. ‘Why do you ask? Are you feeling all romantic in your big bed?’
    ‘It’s a simple question.’ I felt my own protective emotional barrier go up, the intimacy of a moment before drying like sweat on my damp skin. ‘It’s OK if you don’t,’ I said, sounding as pathetic as I felt. ‘I just wondered, since you’ve never said it.’
    ‘Do you think I love you?’
    How could I answer that question and not sound needy or conceited? I shook my head, something hard and cold settling behind my breastbone like a rock. ‘I don’t know. Why can’t you just