and shucked his dark boxer briefs. His cock was big. I don’t know why that surprised me. He was big. All over. Easily six foot six, two hundred and thirty pounds, give or take.
Surely he could palm a basketball or someone’s skull if he was in the cage. And yet, I was still surprised at the size of him. The length and the girth. When he took himself in hand and stroked, my whole body rippled with desire. I became kinetic.
He toed off his socks and opened a door in the sideboard and pulled out his wallet. I watched him rip the foil packet and roll the condom on and all the time, his fingers on his own flesh was a mesmerising sight to me.
I spread my legs, baring my sex for him as he advanced – shameless, needy, restless, like I might die if he didn’t touch me.
‘Stop moving,’ he said.
I froze. It took all of my energy to keep myself still as he traced my labia with his warm fingers. He tested me then, thrusting deep, my pussy so wet we both heard the accepting noise it made when he fingered me.
My cheeks flared hot but I kept my gaze steady.
Shepherd pushed the head of his cock to my slit and gripped my hips. ‘Do you want this?’
‘Of course.’
‘Say it.’
‘I want this.’
‘It’s not too soon?’ he asked, looking both aggressive and sincerely concerned.
‘I’m learning there’s no such thing as too soon.’ I let my legs fall open just a bit more and he made a noise that came from deep in his chest.
Shepherd didn’t drive into me. He inched into me. Slowly. The rough pad of his thumb pressed my clit as he slid home and I watched him. How his stomach muscles flexed and his biceps moved and his jaw clenched tight. He gripped my breast with his right hand and lightly plucked the nipple until it stood up straight. Then he bent his bulk over me and took the nub in between his sweetly sharp teeth and nipped me.
When I gasped and moved he slid all the way in, forcing his cock deep into my body. Making my cunt adjust and grip up around him. We froze that way, sprawled over the wooden table – face to face. His breath hot on my face, his hands rough on my skin.
‘Move,’ I whispered. ‘Oh God, Shepherd, please move.’
He started to rock into me. Languid even thrusts that inched me across the table top until he gripped me tight and held me still. I couldn’t remember being that boldly honest before. Not naked, not face to face, not fucking.
I had needed him to move, to quench the need inside of me, and I had asked for it in a raw and honest voice. It startled even me.
His thumb pressed and rolled, spreading my own fluids over the hard knot of my clit. Shepherd drove deep, watching me as I watched him. His hips pistoning so the small cut muscles along his flanks stood out and danced.
He grabbed my ankles, bringing them up to rest on his shoulders before returning his thumb to rub me some more. I arched up some, using his broad shoulders for leverage and he never batted an eye. His cock slammed my G-spot repeatedly, brushing all the sweet spots along the way and he gave me one final press and rub and I was coming, trying so hard not to drum my ankles against his skin.
He didn’t care. ‘You ripple when you come. Like tight warm water on my cock.’ He laughed softly when he said it and then pulled free. Offering me a hand he said, ‘Up.’
I stood, holding his hand – and glad I was, because my knees felt weak and watery.
He turned me, bending me over the table, spread between our still present placemats: my body lying down the centre between the two colourful swatches of fabric. Shepherd kneed my legs apart a bit more and then leaned over me again. Placing my left wrist as far as it would go and then my right. ‘Grip the table,’ he said and I did. I curled my fingers around the rough wood and realised I was panting.
I was terrified, mortified and entirely turned on. I was being studied like some girl-specimen and normally that would make me run. For whatever reason, with
Surely he could palm a basketball or someone’s skull if he was in the cage. And yet, I was still surprised at the size of him. The length and the girth. When he took himself in hand and stroked, my whole body rippled with desire. I became kinetic.
He toed off his socks and opened a door in the sideboard and pulled out his wallet. I watched him rip the foil packet and roll the condom on and all the time, his fingers on his own flesh was a mesmerising sight to me.
I spread my legs, baring my sex for him as he advanced – shameless, needy, restless, like I might die if he didn’t touch me.
‘Stop moving,’ he said.
I froze. It took all of my energy to keep myself still as he traced my labia with his warm fingers. He tested me then, thrusting deep, my pussy so wet we both heard the accepting noise it made when he fingered me.
My cheeks flared hot but I kept my gaze steady.
Shepherd pushed the head of his cock to my slit and gripped my hips. ‘Do you want this?’
‘Of course.’
‘Say it.’
‘I want this.’
‘It’s not too soon?’ he asked, looking both aggressive and sincerely concerned.
‘I’m learning there’s no such thing as too soon.’ I let my legs fall open just a bit more and he made a noise that came from deep in his chest.
Shepherd didn’t drive into me. He inched into me. Slowly. The rough pad of his thumb pressed my clit as he slid home and I watched him. How his stomach muscles flexed and his biceps moved and his jaw clenched tight. He gripped my breast with his right hand and lightly plucked the nipple until it stood up straight. Then he bent his bulk over me and took the nub in between his sweetly sharp teeth and nipped me.
When I gasped and moved he slid all the way in, forcing his cock deep into my body. Making my cunt adjust and grip up around him. We froze that way, sprawled over the wooden table – face to face. His breath hot on my face, his hands rough on my skin.
‘Move,’ I whispered. ‘Oh God, Shepherd, please move.’
He started to rock into me. Languid even thrusts that inched me across the table top until he gripped me tight and held me still. I couldn’t remember being that boldly honest before. Not naked, not face to face, not fucking.
I had needed him to move, to quench the need inside of me, and I had asked for it in a raw and honest voice. It startled even me.
His thumb pressed and rolled, spreading my own fluids over the hard knot of my clit. Shepherd drove deep, watching me as I watched him. His hips pistoning so the small cut muscles along his flanks stood out and danced.
He grabbed my ankles, bringing them up to rest on his shoulders before returning his thumb to rub me some more. I arched up some, using his broad shoulders for leverage and he never batted an eye. His cock slammed my G-spot repeatedly, brushing all the sweet spots along the way and he gave me one final press and rub and I was coming, trying so hard not to drum my ankles against his skin.
He didn’t care. ‘You ripple when you come. Like tight warm water on my cock.’ He laughed softly when he said it and then pulled free. Offering me a hand he said, ‘Up.’
I stood, holding his hand – and glad I was, because my knees felt weak and watery.
He turned me, bending me over the table, spread between our still present placemats: my body lying down the centre between the two colourful swatches of fabric. Shepherd kneed my legs apart a bit more and then leaned over me again. Placing my left wrist as far as it would go and then my right. ‘Grip the table,’ he said and I did. I curled my fingers around the rough wood and realised I was panting.
I was terrified, mortified and entirely turned on. I was being studied like some girl-specimen and normally that would make me run. For whatever reason, with
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