“I like that word.” His hand snaked up my body, pulling the neckline of my dress down to reveal the lacey cups of my bra. “Take your fucking tits out for me.” His voice was strained, the words muffled behind his teeth. “Christ, O, I can’t wait to feel this pussy for real.”
What was it about the filth that came out of this man’s mouth that dissolved me to liquid magma? I was so turned on I could count down the seconds to my orgasm.
Sweat beaded on my temples as I crisscrossed my arms over my torso and gripped the bundled fabric of my dress, arching my back to pull it directly over my head in one swift movement. My bra followed as I unclipped it eagerly and spread myself bare on the cashmere-colored carpet.
Frankie’s movements stalled, the fire in his eyes no longer just a reflection of the glass and flames behind my head. There was desperation so flagrantly on display I felt for a moment like the most powerful woman in the world. I was on my back but he was lying down before me, my satisfaction his only precedence.
He teased a finger inside of me, the familiar feeling of it making every lash of his tongue land tenfold. My hips buzzed and the tightening in my lower belly became unbearable.
“The way your body responds…” Frankie whispered. “It’s so fucking hot.” He pressed another finger inside me with the first and I gasped out a sharp moan as they curled in slow strokes, petting a spot that rendered me blind. Satisfaction floated from my mouth in a symphony. “Hi, beautiful.” He laughed sweetly, the sound branding itself in my core memories on impact. “There she is, there’s my girl.”
“Frankie, oh…God.” My thighs squeezed around him.
“Is it good, baby?”
My eyes got lost somewhere in the back of my head. “So…” I mumbled. “So…”
“Show me how good.”
His mouth found my clit again and I erupted in pleasure. My insides clamped down so violently I saw nothing but darkness for a moment before my vision returned, the tidal wave of an orgasm sucking every last breath of air from my lungs. My chest rose and fell in a chaotic rhythm as Frankie dragged the final spasms out with his fingers.
“Fuck yes.” He brought them to his mouth without missing a beat and tasted the evidence. I was immediately captivated again, humming for another moment like the one I’d just experienced.
I’d not even touched him, yet it was like we were on the same level of euphoria. Frankie’s pupils were dilated to eight balls, his hair askew, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He sat up on his knees and I ran greedy fingertips from the center of his chest to the trail of hair around his navel and didn’t stop there.
“I want this,” I murmured, tugging him by his open belt buckle.
We’d all but forgotten where we were—in the center of the living room floor in the dark. His calloused hands ran up my body from the tops of my thighs to the curve of my rib cage, skating over my nipples, then to my throat and back down as if he were reading me like braille.
“Take it,” he said firmly. Frankie reached into his back pocket and pulled free a condom, placing it in the valley between my breasts. “Take anything you fucking want from me.”
I wanted his time, his memories, his adoration, his future. I wanted so many things from him, but more than anything in that moment, I wanted him buried inside of me. I wanted to feel him come apart.
I made quick work of his zipper, my hands lingering obsessively on the length straining against my palm. His trembling fingers joined mine, shoving his briefs down as I tugged, as if we couldn’t work fast enough. When he sprung free he sighed, as if it hurt him to have been caged for so long, and my mouth watered at the sight of his own desperation beading at the tip of his cock.
Frankie’s size was so impressive I spent a minute just exploring it with my hands, stacking my fists on top of one another around him, stroking it from base to head, rubbing his arousal in circles with my thumb. He jerked and huffed as the lower muscles in his abdomen stiffened and loosened, then repeated.
“I love watching you play, Trouble”—his voice was pinched—“but I’m about three good strokes away from painting you white.”
God.
I tore through the condom wrapper with my teeth and rolled it eagerly down his shaft. Frankie’s large frame came down on top of me as he shucked his pants off, his forearms closing me in on both sides of my head, until the glow of the room was nothing but a silhouette around his shoulders.
We connected like magnets to metal, and in an instant he was inside of me, with one swift plunging thrust that my entire body reacted to. Everything from my toes to the roots of my hair came alight.
Frankie’s lips dropped into the crook of my neck, stifling a graceless groan. “Fuck me, O, that is so tight.” His fingers fastened on my hips, aggressive energy coursing through him.
His cock throbbed, taking up every last inch of space it could as my walls pulled him deeper, begging for friction that he granted with another roll of his hips.
“You,” he growled, thrusting forward again. “Are…” Another hard snap into me. “Unreal.”
I closed my thighs around him, ankles crossing on the small of his back as he continued to move in and out of me. I was on the precipice of another rapture, his dick angled perfectly into my core, grinding on that soft, debilitating spot that made my vision cloud around the edges.
I could still taste myself on his tongue and that ignited a secondary lust so unbearable all control was lost.
“You feel so good,” I mumbled against his lips. “It’s never felt this good.”
Our breaths mingled as he tore away to stare down into my eyes. “Say that again. Best you've ever had? Huh?” His pace quickened and I whimpered into his open mouth. His lips claimed the sounds, swallowing them. “Come on, O, I know you’re thinking something fucking depraved up there. Tell me.”
Frankie’s forehead came to rest on mine, our noses bumping intimately. I should have been embarrassed at the sounds my body was making but I felt nothing but security and gratification. Hedonistic fulfillment at its basest level. My fingernails skated down his back and dug in, sealing myself to his body so harshly I could feel each individual muscle in his torso working against me. My touch caught raised skin, thick and scored dash marks above his tailbone. His scars.
“More,” I pleaded. “I want to feel you in my throat.”
His hand tangled in the hair at the back of my head, lifting me slightly from the carpet to cradle my skull in his palm.
“I knew it would be this way,” he muttered. He dragged his mouth down my chin, my throat, licking at the dips in my collarbones, branding me in hot trails of his tongue. His teeth clamped down on one of my nipples and tugged it feverishly. “I knew you’d fuck me up, Ophelia. I knew it.”
My core tightened around him, quivering with need, preparing for release once again. Frankie held my hips down with his heavy body and ground himself so deeply inside me I opened my mouth to scream and nothing came out.
Again, again, again. I bit my bottom lip and threw my head back, realizing that his hand was the only thing there to keep me from hurting myself. The way he fucked was bruising and I would wear the evidence of it like a fucking medal. This was what I did to him; this was the loss of control.