A Perfect Ten (Forbidden Men #5)

“Okay,” he echoed. He almost sounded as eager and nervous as I felt, which only synched me in with him more. So when he touched me there with the blunt head of his cock, I whimpered.

“Oh God. Please.”

The head entered me and I sucked in a breath, bowing my face as I soaked in the sensation. He slowly applied pressure, filling me and stretching my womb to accommodate himself. I felt every freaking centimeter.

“Holy...fuck,” he gritted out, gripping my waist hard enough that his fingers bit into my skin. “You’re so...damn...tight.” He blew out a breath as he seated himself completely, all of him in all of me.

I couldn’t remember ever feeling this full with Sander. Not that I was thinking about him, but he was my only other point of reference, and I had definitely never experienced this much stretching before. Oren felt so...I don’t know, huge, maybe. He was crammed in almost too tight, as if there was no room for anything else. All I could feel was him, and it was delicious and perfect and—

“Oh God!” I yelped as he shifted ever so slightly, hitting something that shot off a spasm that consumed me entirely. “Right there. Right there. You found it. Don’t move.” I wanted to freeze this moment in all eternity and memorize the feel of him lodged deep, filling me, and consuming me. I just needed a second to appreciate the wonder—

“Don’t move?” he yelped, repeating my instructions. “Are you insane? You can’t let a guy into pussy heaven and then tell him not to move.”

So, of course, he moved, sliding most of the way out, until I was gasping and clutching the table harder, pressing my forehead to the flat wooden surface. And then he shoved right back in.

“Oren,” I whimpered. Seated deep, he’d felt amazing. But moving and rubbing his cock against every nerve ending in my channel was pure torture, amazing, marvelous torture. Inner muscles were quivering and contracting out of control around him. None of my previous orgasms—not even the self-inflicted ones—had ever had such an extreme buildup.

Grabbing my hair—and not too gently—he thrust again and growled into my ear. “Stop...calling...me—”

But I was too busy coming to care what name I was shouting, so I just kept chanting, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, Orrrrrennnn.”

He cursed and pounded harder, pulling my hair snugger and growling out his own release as I pulsed around him, my nipples throbbing and core convulsing with every tug on my scalp.

It was the single greatest orgasm to ever claim me...and definitely the strangest. Who knew hair pulling would get me off like that?

After I finally stopped coming, Oren slumped onto me, making the small table wobble perilously under us. His damp chest stuck to my back and pushed my breasts forward, smashing them against the cool wood.

Panting in my ear, he sounded sapped of all energy. “Holy...fuck.”

“S-sorry, I...I called you Oren again,” I tried to say, though it was nearly impossible from the way he was squishing out any air that might’ve circulated through my lungs.

He hissed out an amused sound. “I didn’t mind it so much that time.”

I smiled. “I guess it was time to give that name a new kind of memory.”

“Hmm.” His voice went distant as if he didn’t want to share such an intimacy with me.

Making new memories was only meant to happen with friends and lovers, not strangers humping in the dark.

That’s when the first wave of queasy reality sliced through me. This hadn’t meant to him what it had meant to me. In my head, I’d known that all along. But now that it was all said and done, I was actually living it. He was still buried inside me, and to me, it was intimate and bonding. To him, it was empty, emotionless fucking.

I bit my lip, forcing myself not to cry. What the hell had I just done?

I pressed my forehead to the table a bit too hard and made it thump.

Oren’s fingers eased back into my hair. “Did pulling your hair really make you come?”

I’m pretty sure it had been an accumulation of everything that had made me come, but the hair thing...oh yeah, my muscles quivered around his length, remembering how it had felt when he’d done that. So I said, “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

“What? Hair pulling’s never turned you on before?”

“I...no one’s actually pulled it before, you know, during...”

He gave another experimental tug. My body clamped around his and we both sucked in a breath as he started growing inside me.

“Damn.” Once again hard enough to pull out and nudge his way back in, he groaned. “I’m going to need another condom.” But instead of leaving me, he thrust forward the next time he backed his hips away. “Fuck, you feel good.”