Free Well Hung by Lauren Blakely Page A

How it feels like my entire body is plugged in, like I’m amped up and supercharged, because this is how a first time with someone should be.
    Absolutely mind-blowing.
    When we lock eyes, the pleasure moves up another level to out-of-this-world. It’s so fucking intense, the way we look at each other, the connection that crackles between us.
    “You are . . .” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.
    “So are you . . .”
    My skin sizzles from head to toe. The hair on my arms stands on end. Fuck, my nipples are hard, too. I’m aroused everywhere. She wraps her legs around my ass, hooking her ankles together, pulling me deeper. I fill her completely, my shaft coated in her all the way to the base, and I don’t think my dick has ever been in a happier place. Her arms loop around my neck, and I hold her hips tight. Like that, I fuck her.
    It’s not a slow, lingering session of lovemaking. It’s a hard and hurried screw. We could get caught. We could be arrested. We could be seen. Urgency fills the air.
    One second, I’m deep in her. The next, I pull back. Then I thrust into her again, and her moans and her groans tell me she likes this rhythm. She likes the race. She likes the thrill. And as she lifts her hips to draw me back into her, she just likes the way we fit.
    God, so do I. I wish I could break this down into the details, say it’s the way I punch my hips, or how she grinds her sweet little pussy against my cock. But nope. It’s out-of-this-world good because I want her so badly, and now I have her. And it’s better than I dreamed it would be.
    “Feels so good,” I say.
    “Feels amazing.”
    “You’re so fucking wet.”
    “You’re so fucking hard.”
    I laugh lightly as I thrust. “Guess we got the basics down.”
    She laughs, too, and, impossibly, that turns me on more, how easy the talking still is. How messing around hasn’t changed a thing between us. We’re still the same people.
    “Think you can come again?” I don’t want to be presumptuous. Maybe she’s a one-and-done.
    “God, I hope so,” she says in a broken pant. “Think you can get me there?”
    I love a good challenge. “I know so,” I answer, then slide my thumb between us, rubbing her sweet clit as I stroke in and out.
    “Oh God,” she gasps. She drops her hands to my waist and slides her fingers up my back, under my T-shirt. “Yes, yes, yes,” she says in my ear, urging me on.
    I fuck, and I rub, and I focus on her. She is the center of my world.
    A bead of sweat falls down my forehead. She raises her face, brushes her lips over my eyebrow, and kisses it off. That gesture sends an electric charge through me. She moans, and I’m so worked up that I know I’ll be coming soon, and it will be epic. A jolt of pleasure rockets down my spine, then ripples across all my bones.
    “Need to get you there,” I moan, rubbing her clit, feeling her slickness on my thumb and all the fuck over my cock.
    “So close, Wyatt. I’m so close. Keep doing that. Please,” she begs, her voice hoarse, as if she’s been screaming at a rock concert or on a rollercoaster.
    And I realize that’s what we are tonight. We fuck like a rock song. We screw like a wild ride that twists and turns. We are edge-of-the-seat lovers.
    I jab into her with fast and powerful thrusts.
    “Like that,” she moans, as my thumb rubs furious circles on her clit and my cock gets to know the inside of her even better, reaching her G-spot.
    She drags her nails down my back. Holy shit. She’s digging in. She’s scratching me. I can barely control how much I want to let go.
    But she goes first, and she just detonates. She explodes with a bang, writhing and wriggling and falling apart with a loud “oh God, oh God, oh God.” She drops her face onto my shoulder, muffling her moans.
    But I can hear her—her sexy murmurs, her relentless cries of pleasure, and her groans of my name, again and again.
    Like the chorus to that rock song.
    It’s just an oh god , over