Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [60]
Of course, this moment, as they stepped to the rear of a rapidly filling elevator, was all about fucking. The urgency was palpable.
Standing behind her, he let his arms fold gently around her waist, pulling her back against him, knowing how hard his dick was and that she could feel it pressing insistently into her soft, sweet ass.
As the elevator climbed, she trembled in his arms, fueling his lust still more. And shit—the damn thing stopped on floor after floor. People getting off, more people getting on. He rubbed against her. He couldn’t help it. She covered his arms with her own, squeezing, caressing—and soon gently digging her fingernails in.
When finally the elevator stopped on their floor, they practically tumbled out into the hallway and he grabbed her hand, pulling her down the quiet corridor toward the suite.
“My God,” she uttered, sounding frantic, breathless. “I can’t believe this.”
“What?”
“I can feel it…actually rolling down my legs.”
He was confused. “What? What’s on your legs?”
“My…wetness.”
He stopped, pulling her up short, then his gaze dropped to her miniskirt—and below. She’d clearly been holding her legs together in the elevator, but he could see the moisture there, on her inner thighs, below the hem of her skirt. “Jesus God.”
Unable not to, he followed his instincts, pushing her back against one of the lavishly decorated walls, dropping to his knees, parting her legs, and fervently licking her inner thigh.
The salty-sweet taste of her come met his tongue, making his heart beat faster, making every muscle in his body tense with pure, hard want. His cock felt like it would burst from behind his zipper—so stiff now that it actually hurt.
He licked one thigh, then the other, listening to her low, uncontrolled moans, aware she was still trembling and now clutching helplessly at the wall behind her, splaying her fingers over the wallpaper, curling them inward as if she could grab on to it. And he hadn’t even come anywhere near her pussy yet.
“God, Damon. In the room. Now. Please. Or I’ll die.”
He almost believed her. He’d never felt quite this tortured with lust, either.
They made it the rest of the way up the hall, but it was all he could do to get out his wallet and key card to get them inside.
She headed through the large foyer and dining area straight to the bedroom, Damon hot on her heels. And then, just when he thought she couldn’t surprise him anymore than she already had—she did. When he stepped into the room, she turned, grabbed his forearms, and shoved him hard onto the bed. He fell back easily, not having expected it, then watched as hot, hungry little Brenna straddled his thighs and started working ravenously at his belt buckle, just as she already had once tonight—but with more fervor now.
A few seconds later, his hungry cock jutted free, and he helped her, pushing his jeans farther open, his briefs down. And then she mounted him, lowering her wet, warm, tight little cunt down over him so fast and hard that they both cried out.
Ah, God—just like before, the sensation of being flesh to flesh almost overwhelmed him. She rode him like a wild cowgirl, at the same time ripping her tank top off over her head. Underneath she wore a sexy red bra, cut low, the round curves of her breasts arcing upward. Hot pleasure filled him—the pure pleasure of sex, but also the unexpected delight of Brenna having her way with him, so rough and nasty.
“Need more of these gorgeous tits,” he said through clenched teeth, then reached to yank down the lace-rimmed cups of her bra so that they merely outlined the two pretty mounds of flesh. She gasped hotly, then moaned when he took them in his hands, squeezing, molding their lush softness, feeling those hard, beaded nipples point into his palms.