Trashed (Stripped 2) - Page 78/80

“And you won’t need these,” I tell him.

He kicks them off, his shoes and socks, shrugs out of his jacket. I untie the bowtie, unbutton his shirt, and then we’re both naked and our clothes are floating away in the silver path of moonlight, my dress caught on his pants, a sock and a sinking shoe wrapped up in my strapless bra.

His fingers are busy between my thighs, stroking and circling until I’m whimpering and dipping at the knees to ride his fingers to a low, shuddering climax. And then he’s bending and sliding into me, gripping me at the knee and holding my leg up near his hip, grunting and thrusting.

I hold onto his neck and laugh as I lose my balance, falling into him, and we go toppling into the water. We splash and disconnect, and then he’s gathering our clothes and leading me up to the beach and up the stairs to the balcony, where he deposits our sopping pile of clothes. Further upward, then, to our room.

He pushes open one door, and then turns to me. “Go get in bed, babe.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and dry off while Adam opens all the doorwalls until the sea breeze fills the room. By the time he’s done, I’m on the bed, on my back, fingers at my clit, swiping through the wetness of my desire.

Adam stands at the foot of the bed and watches as I touch myself, and then he’s between my knees and his tongue replaces my fingers, and I’m breathless, coming again, and he’s lapping at the juices as they leak out of me, squeezed from within me by the clenching of my inner walls.

“Adam, I need you…” I gasp, pulling at him. “I need you inside me. Right now, baby, please.”

He crawls up my body, nestles his core against mine, leaning over me. He’s at my entrance, hard and hard and spreading me apart. I flex my hips, and he slips in, and I’m gasping. He remains still, eyes pale and piercing on mine, hands beside my face. One of his palms scrapes over my nipple and I whimper, wrap my ankles around his spine and lift up, driving him deep into me.

“Like this, babe?” His lips move against mine, somewhere between a kiss and a whisper.

“Almost,” I say.

I grind my pussy against him, around him, feel him slide in deep, rough circles inside my body, arching my spine and rolling my hips to fuck him harder and get him deeper.

“I can’t get enough,” I groan, “I need more. I need you deeper.”

I lever him sideways and he lets me roll us so I’m on top. He just grins as I settle onto him, sink him deep, and start a rhythm. I rest my palms on his chest and let my hair drape around us, my tits swaying and bouncing as I ride him until we’re both grunting with the impending force of climax.

But it’s still not good enough.

“I know what you need,” Adam whispers to me.

I slow and stare down at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sits up, slides out from beneath me, and then stands up beside the bed. “Come here, Des. On your belly. Lean over the bed for me. Show me that fine ass of yours, love.”

I do as he instructs, moving to bend over the bed, but when my feet touch the floor, he takes my left leg in his hands and lifts it so my knee is bent up and forward, resting on the bed. I’m bared to him, spread open and bent over, unbalanced.

He slips a finger between my thighs and finds my wet and waiting entrance, touches me and guides himself in, flexing his hips in a slow glide. His foot is beside mine on the floor, his hand on the bed at the crook of my knee, keeping it from slipping off the bed, and his other hand goes to the crease of my hip, pulling me back into him. I gasp at the depth of his cock inside me, and push back, pushing further off the bed. My knee bends so my thigh is pressed to my body, and I’m not so much standing as merely resting on the bed, held up by Adam’s impaled cock.

“How’s this?” he growls, smoothing a hand over my back.

“Perfect,” I gasp, “as long as you start fucking.”

He drives in and pulls out, his hand skimming my skin in a circuit from thigh to spine to ass and back to my bent thigh. He pushes on my ass-cheek as he penetrates me, spreading me apart, and I can’t help groaning low in my throat as he grinds in ball-deep, so deep I can feel his sac slapping against me.

“Fuck, Adam…yes…” I murmur, breathless.

“You like this?”

“God, yes, baby. I love it.”

“Is it enough?”

I shake my head and push back against him. “No. I still need more.”

He fucks harder, and this time as he drives in, he smacks my ass with a resounding clap, hard enough to sting and startle, and I shriek with surprise but it turns to a groan of need as the slap somehow lets him deeper yet, and now he’s fucking and slapping and fucking and slapping, and all I can do is moan his name.

“Adam…Adam…Adam…”

“You want me to come inside you like this, babe?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I want to see your eyes when you come.”

So then he’s pulling out and I’m turning over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t have to tell me what I want, and I don’t guess. I just know. He’s there, between my thighs, and I’m locking my ankles around his waist and kissing his sweaty, heaving chest as he slips back into me, drives deep home where he belongs. His hands find my cheeks, brush my hair away from my face and his mouth is seeking mine, kissing forehead and cheekbone and chin and jawline and the corner of my mouth and then his tongue is between my lips, and we’re kissing in that deep and desperate way, the drowning and lost and mad crazed breathless and needy kiss of soul to soul.

We’re moving in sync, grinding and rolling together, and I feel my climax rising inside me even as I feel his rhythm falter. We fall backward to the bed, and I’m scooting back and welcoming his weight on me, clinging to him with arms and legs and my lips are on his neck and my teeth nip and I’m screaming as I come, feeling and hearing his roar of release and our sweat is merged and smeared together and we’re gasping in unison, hips crushed together and moving, rolling, grinding, desperate for each fractional moment of mutual climax.

“Destiny, Jesus, Destiny, I love you so fucking much…” He’s limp on top of me, and I cling to him, feeling him tense and shudder and flutter his hips in the quaking aftershocks.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I whisper it into his ear, gasping it, fingers scraping and scratching down his back as my body tremors beneath his. “I love you forever and forever and forever.”