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Stripped Bare(10)
Emma Hart

I fucking ached. Between the wild pounding of my heart and the intense throbbing between my legs, I was so turned on, so ready, and I bit down on my lip as West leaned over me and grabbed my wrists. He stretched my arms out in front of me, and his cock pressed between my ass cheeks.

His hands stroked down my back as he straightened and moved away from me. I should have been more conscious of the fact that I was bent over the edge of this bed, naked, with my ass in the air, my legs open, and my pussy exposed. But I wasn’t—I was too busy waiting as he threw his pants to the side.

I heard the rip echo through the air and took a deep breath. No sooner had I sucked it in than he placed one hand on my left ass cheek and ran two fingers through the wetness between my legs. I moaned, jerking back against his hand in a plea.

I needed more. Desperately.

My fingers wound in the sheet beneath me as West guided his cock to my pussy. The head of it brushed against me, not quite inside me, but the touch was strong enough that it drew a tiny whimper from my mouth. God, I needed it—him. Whatever.

He pushed inside me an inch, his size making me still. He grabbed my hips and pulled me back as he slowly moved forward. “Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my skin. “You’re so tight.”

I couldn’t speak as he buried himself inside me. I turned my face to the side so I could breathe more easily and waited... Waited for him to move. To fuck me properly. To make me lose my mind.

I felt every inch of his cock as he thrust out and back into me. Slowly, he built a rhythm, speeding up so every thrust into me was a little bit harder. Despite his tight grip on me, my body moved every time he slammed into me. My nipples, already sensitive, brushed against the bed. It felt so good, even as he gripped my ass so tight that it hurt.

My orgasm was building. I trembled, my legs shaking with the effort of keeping me in the same position. West’s movements were so controlled and strong, each thrust so powerful and determined, that I couldn’t have moved if I’d have wanted to. Not as sweat slicked my body and my muscles tensed. Not as pleasure began to rise and he put a foot on the base of the bed, fucking me deeper.

This sex was rough and unapologetic between two strangers.

I loved it.

Loved it even as my orgasm came so harshly that my vision went black and my entire body tightened. My pussy clenched around his dick, and his fingertips dug into me as he thrust for his own orgasm.

And—oh my god.

Shivers accompanied the second orgasm that racked my body. I desperately grasped at the sheets, and my back arched, which lifted my butt back up and against him. I’d never felt pleasure this intense, and I barely breathed as West’s relentless pounding drew the orgasm out until he stilled, buried entirely inside me, and dropped his face to my back while groaning.

Holy. Shit.

The man was a sex god.

We stayed that way until my knees finally gave out a couple of minutes later. He pulled out of me and, still wearing the condom, laughed quietly as he took hold of my waist to steady me. “Here,” he said quietly, putting me on the bed.

I wiped hair from my face in a daze and searched for his eyes in the semi darkness of my room. I missed them but caught sight of his tight ass as he walked into the bathroom while rolling the condom off his dick. I lazily smiled before a yawn interrupted it midway. I was still feeling the aftereffects of the double orgasm as I halfheartedly scrambled for the sheets.

He would leave now.

No guy who fucked that good ever would stay the night.

I pulled tissues from the box on the nightstand, wiped between my legs, threw the tissue in the trash can, and climbed beneath the sheets. Rude? Maybe, but I was tired, and if I hadn’t, I’d have fallen asleep somewhere other than the bed.

I tugged the sheets up to my neck and watched the area by the bathroom for him to come out to say goodbye, but my eyelids felt heavy as the veil of alcohol and orgasms drifted over me.

When I woke up some twelve hours later, he was gone.

THREE WEEKS LATER

I ran my fingers through my hair and looked to the ceiling. I shouldn’t have picked up the phone. “No, Mom, I’m not dropping out of the wedding.”

“Good.” She barely paused before she responded. Her breath crackled down the line. “I told you Darren Costa was a bad idea, Mia. I’d heard things, you know.”

The woman was going to be the death of me. I swore that, one day, when I was dead, the inscription on my tombstone would read: Mia O’Halloran... Death By Insistent Mother.

“Yes¸ Mom. I remember you telling me to avoid him.” I held the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I opened the fridge.

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