Silence, except for the background of Manhattan, a wash of sound I didn’t even register. Just us, together. Him, breathing and moving, the wet sound of our sex, his eyes hooded and fixed on me, moving from my eyes to where we were joined, watching himself slide into me, pull back, slide in. I slid my heels up and over his shoulders, urged him closer, used the power in my legs to pull at him until he was leaning over me.
He growled at me, and leaned over me, leaving me no choice but to be curled in on myself, or let go my hold on him with my legs. I released him and let my legs fall to the bed, and he leaned back, burying himself fully inside me. His palms skated over my thighs, down the length of my legs and back up, smoothing along my calves and the tender underside of my knees and then the backs of my thighs. He wasn’t thrusting, but held himself motionless, pulling back from the urge to climax.
He wrapped his hands around the backs of my knees, held me there, my knees slightly bent, feet flat on the bed. I watched him, saw the determination in his eyes.
I sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled out with excruciating slowness and then fluttered the tip of his cock against my clit, rubbing against me in a way that sent sun-hot waves of wildfire scorching through me, making me curl forward and lift my hips off the bed.
“Oh god, Valentine. I’m—I’m gonna—”
“What, Kyrie? You’re going to what?”
“Come….”
“Good. Come for me, love.” He gripped his big shaft in one fist and pushed the head of his dick against my throbbing clitoris, rubbing in slow forceful circles. “Come for me, Kyrie. Come…right…now.”
I came. I had no choice. The low growl of his command, the feel of him against my sensitive little bundle of nerves, the look on his face, and the need in him to be in control…he owned me. He commanded me, and I obeyed. I came hard, writhing up off the bed, and in that moment he pushed into me, eliciting a scream from me as my tensed and squeezing pussy was speared open and filled by him.
“Oh, fuck, Kyrie. Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good.” He pulled back slowly and thrust in hard, the way he liked to do, and I screamed again, my climax burning hotter and hotter within me, leaving me no choice but to fuck against him and scream and scream and scream as he moved inside me. “So tight. So perfectly tight around me.”
“Please, Valentine…please come with—with me,” I begged him.
He groaned and fell forward. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, holding his nape with one hand and his head with the other, clutching him to me and rocking into his thrusts. And then, without warning, I rolled us so I was on top of him, straddling him. He tensed, his eyes flicking open, and I watched him fight the memory of being restrained in this position. I looked down at him, rocked my hips and ground my ass against him, burying him deeper.
“Feel me, Valentine,” I whispered. “You feel that?”
I lifted my hips until he was totally free of my body, bracing my weight with a palm on his chest. His eyes moved, sought mine, and his hands fisted into the sheets. I slipped him into my opening and slowly slid myself down around him, groaning a sigh as he filled me, feeling each inch of his thick, hard cock.
“I feel you, Kyrie,” he growled, and his hips moved, thrusting himself up and into me.
I writhed on him, seating him deeper, and then rose up, fluttered my hips to feather his tip just barely inside me, teasing him, daring him to move more, move harder, to take this, to take me.
I felt him break through the pain and fear that came with being straddled and begin to fuck me in earnest. For himself now, rather than for me. I was still crazed with the aftershocks of my climax, and each thrust made me gasp and shriek, caused me to involuntarily grind against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. His fucking became wild then. He lifted my breast to his face and sucked my nipple between his teeth, his hips driving hard and fast, relentless, crazed.
He suckled my tit and fucked me hard, and I held him against me and clutched him with my legs and took it all, loved it all. I wanted to feel him come apart above me and in me and all around me. I needed to feel him take his pleasure and milk it all from him.
“Kyrie, I’m there. I’m coming, Kyrie.”
“Yes, Valentine, come for me. Come inside me. Shoot your come in me. I want it. Right now, baby. Right now, my love.” I leaned over him, rocking back and forth as hard and fast as I could, wild myself now with his breaking orgasm. I felt his rhythm stutter, felt him let my nipple fall from his mouth, then heard his groan against my breasts, his face buried between my tits, his hips drilling against mine with crashing force. I urged him on, whispered his name over and over.
He shook beneath me, stared up at me, all the universe shrunk down to this one moment. “Kyrie….” he breathed.
I kept my eyes locked on his as he exploded inside me with a shout, jetting hot wetness deep inside me, over and over. He filled me with his come, and the sensation of him losing control inside me had me quaking and shaking, an orgasm of my own rocketing through me, a slow, deep, burning pulsation that began in my bones and my gut and spread through me like wildfire.
“God, yes, Valentine, yes, I love you, I love feeling you come. Give it all to me. Give me every drop.” I crushed my tits between us and bit his shoulder, kissed his temple and ground myself against him, needing him deeper and deeper so I could come with him. “Don’t stop yet, love. Come inside me some more.”
He palmed both globes of my ass and moved with me, our bodies pressed together from head to toe, merged and enmeshed and tangled together, our legs twined. Buried inside me, he could only grind his hips to milk his climax, in so doing drawing more from me.
Finally he rolled with me, cradling me against his chest and drawing the blanket over us. “I love you with everything that I am, Kyrie Abigail St. Claire.” His words were a low murmur.
I was already nearly asleep, but I heard him. “I love you more than that.”
“More than everything?”
“Yep.”
A silence as we both drifted toward sleep. “I believe you,” he mumbled.
* * *
I woke up on my side, Roth’s hands roaming my torso, cupping my tits, and then digging his fingers down and down into my core. Before I was even fully awake, he was pushing into me, and I was murmuring a sleepy protest of surprise. But then he was in me and I was waking up, and his fingers were skillfully bringing me to life. He surged into me, and I reached behind my head to hold his face against my neck, gasping as he thrust into me with a steady rhythm.