I bit my lip to bite back a moan because that was so…damned…hot.
Then he drove inside, filling me. Oh man, oh God, I was so fucking full. There was pain from stretching to accommodate him, but mostly it was pleasure since he was huge.
My head shot back and there was no holding back the deep moan that tore from my lips.
He rounded over me, hand in the bed, as his hips slammed into mine and I took the savage thrusts of his mammoth cock, fucking…loving…every…fucking…one.
“Abel,” I whimpered.
“Tell me you can take it,” he grunted, his hand not in the bed moving to my hair, gathering it in a fist at the back of my neck.
I arched my back, tipping my hips up, and got more.
It was phenomenal.
“Yes,” I breathed. “I can so take it.”
“Fuck, fuck, thank fuck,” he groaned, twisting my hair, pulling my head back.
Phenomenal.
“Baby,” I whispered, sliding my knees out, giving him better access.
“Jesus,” he gritted, yanking my hair back hard enough I came off my hands and felt my pussy clutch at his cock that felt so fucking good.
He caught me around the chest, pulling me to him, still driving up inside. His hand shifted to my breast, cupping it; his other hand went between my legs, finger at my clit, pulsing, tight, hard, rough.
Holy fuck.
“Yes, Abel, don’t stop,” I urged.
His mouth went to my neck.
“Drink,” I rasped.
“Lilah, bao bei,” he whispered into my neck, still pounding inside.
“Take it all from me,” I encouraged, lifting a hand to cover his where he held me at my breast, stretching my other arm out and behind me so I could clench my fingers into his ass, feeling the power of it flex as he pounded inside.
His hand at my breast squeezed hard. I arched my back again, driving my ass into his hips, and his finger at my clit pressed in harder as he groaned, “Fuck yes.”
Then I felt his tongue at my neck, and again. Oh God, nice.
“God, your fuckin’ pussy,” he growled into my neck. “Ecstasy,” he finished and licked my neck again, slamming his cock up and grinding inside.
My head fell back and hit his shoulder as his finger at my clit, thumb and finger now tugging hard at my nipple, cock grinding inside—all of it swept over me, fearful in its power, ready to engulf me, annihilate me. My body tensed, not to welcome it but to fight it off, because suddenly, it was terrifying.
“Abel,” I gasped, gripping his wrists.
I didn’t feel his teeth sink into my flesh, but I felt the blood gush.
And when I did, my orgasm came over me, my body bucking in his hold as he started moving again, my blood pumping and flooding his mouth with each thrust, the climax blistering through me on each drive, wave after wave of sheer heat. My mouth opened and a silent cry of rapture floated out, sweeping me away as I clasped him fast and deep inside me.
Still orgasming, I felt the blood stop flowing and his lips at my ear where he whispered, “Need you to take me on your hands and knees, pussycat.”
He bent me forward. I put my hands out and settled into them as he continued to slam inside and my climax slowly drifted away from me.
I felt his hands at my hips slide up to my ribs to hold me steady as he kept driving deep, faster, rougher, oh God, so good.
“This what you need, baby?” I asked, my words hitching with his thrusts.
“Yeah,” he grunted, one hand remaining at my ribs while his other moved up to curl around my shoulder, yanking me back as he pounded into me.
“Take it, honey,” I purred.
“Fuck, Lilah.”
Faster. Rougher.
Oh yeah.
“Take it,” I urged.
“Fuck,” he grunted.
His hand at my shoulder moved to grasp my hair. He tugged back. I let him, squeezing him tight inside me. He bucked, thrusting, groaning, his fingers digging into my ribs as he came hard, long, and violently inside me, jarring my body, laying claim to me.
I was a biker bitch. I was a biker’s daughter. I’d grown up with pretty much anything goes with my father (though, he wasn’t a loser, when I was younger, he shielded me from anything that might freak me, it was just that when I got older, that “anything” became a shorter list).
But I was not easy.
I’d once had a one-night stand and didn’t much like how it made me feel, mostly because I hadn’t actually thought it was a one-night stand until the guy left my bed with one word: “Gratitude.” Then he left and didn’t ask for my number.
I thought that made him a serious dick and it didn’t feel great that I’d chosen to let him into my bed.
But it was safe to say, at that moment, Abel still buried deep, his hand gripping my hair, I had no remorse.
None.
Not even a little bit.
I was spent because I came harder than I had in my whole life. So I pulled at my hair to communicate I needed him to let me go so I could drop to my forearms.
His grip didn’t lighten even as his voice was gruff but gentle when he said, “Need you up, baby.”
“Okay.”
“Bear with me,” he murmured.
“Okay, honey.”
“Fuck. Sweet,” he whispered, then slid out.
The loss of his massive cock was like losing a part of me, a part I needed, and so I whimpered.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Sweet.”
I stayed up on my hands even when he untangled his fingers from my hair.
Then I felt his hand between my legs. I was dripping—with him, with me—but not for long.
This was because he coated me with us, down the insides of my thighs, over my ass, between its cleft, up over my sex, to my belly, up, up, deep up, to between my breasts, his chest against my ass to give his long arm access.