Swept Away by Marie Byers Read Free Book Online Page A

quite provides enough .
    He hisses and presses his forehead back down against her breasts, holds still there and makes some noises high and desperate like whimpering. “Fucking, shit,” he groans, wet and broken into her skin.
    “I still want you,” Amber admits, she brings her legs up around his waist and holds him there. “Please, I just—I want this.”
    He moans as she finds the head of his dick and it skitters off her belly. Breathlessly he agrees, promises her, “Okay. I’ll pull out before I come, okay?”
    “Okay. Yes. Okay.”
    Her head rocks back for the second time that night, this time swaddled in the soft press of pillows. He’s just as tight a fit as she’d feared and he burns going in, stretching her wider and wider on one long unending thrust.
    It burns, it burns so bad though she’s used dildos before. But the feeling of getting filled, having him in there…fuck, that makes it all worth it.
    He grunts, softly patient as he pushes himself in, slow increment by fucking inch. His arms brace himself up over her head, their fingers entwined and she squeezes down hard as he finally bottoms out, making her gasp with how much of him there is filling her up. His balls are brushing against her ass, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist and his jaw is clenched from how badly he’s restraining himself from just taking what he wants. She can see his pulse jump in his temple and it makes her pussy flood with slick, arousal shuddering through her.
    She knows it’s stupid to agree to let him fuck her bare but she’s never wanted another human being as much as she wants him. It equals the fervor with which she wanted Michael, but different, more real, he’s actually in her arms, his chest squashing down her breasts so her stiff nipples sting with a beautiful hurt, his sweet breath mingling with her own, tongue sucking kisses out her mouth. It’s real. It’s what she wants.
    Amber releases one of his hands and caresses his face. “Fuck me,” she breathes.
    He does.
    He fucks her deep and hard, as she bucks up to meet each thrust, slamming their hips together and rocking his bed with loud unmistakable crashes of the head board thumping into the wall above.
    He fucks her until she’s trembling, caught on the precipice of another spine melting orgasm and stuck there.
    He nips at her throat and soothes it with his tongue, growls into her mouth that he’s not leaving until Wednesday and laughs when she gasps out: “I don’t know your name.”
    “Michael,” he groans, “Michael Westlake.”
    Amber’s pussy clenches and convulses around his hard length as she realizes he’s not a stranger after all, she knows him almost as well as she’s known herself.
    He keeps on humping and thrusting as she breaks apart, screaming her pleasure to the world.
    He fucks her and fucks her and she takes it, loving every last second.
    He takes her virginity in the most perfect way, even if it’s not flowers and candles and softly sweet with his mouth pressed against her pulse point like she’d fantasized about. Those were mostly the imaginings of a romance-soaked youth and his strength at her fingertips, his force pressing her mouth open to accept his tongue, his thick thighs between her legs, opening her up, it’s better.
    Then fucks her full of his come, promise forgotten as his own orgasm seizes his muscles tight.
    Amber melts into him as his hand trips down to her clit, she bucks her hips and rolls into his touch and orgasm swallows her up.
    * * * *
    She’s never sobered up so fast, not that she makes it a practice to get drunk in the first place.
    “Michael?” Amber asks when her heart has settled down and she’s no longer on the brink of an attack. His cock is softening inside her and her legs are still around his waist, slick with sweat.
    He moans, “Amber” into her throat. And at first she thinks it’s an answer to her question but then she realizes…she hasn’t told him her name. Not once has she