Perfectly Imperfect

“Kane!” I cry out and start to move my hips in tune with each pump of his hand. “Oh, God!”

My body arches, and my bottom presses against his body. I can feel the hardness of his erection as he rolls his hips against me to add some friction against the part of him that has kept me awake for long hours throughout the night.

“You’re so tight my fingers can’t even move, Willow,” his husky voice tells me. I can hear the sleep still in his tone. “I woke up after what feels like a handful of minutes sleeping and felt like if I didn’t get back inside you soon and feel you come on my cock that I wouldn’t be able to take another breath. I’m desperate for you.”

I shudder violently when his fingers hit a spot inside me that makes my oversensitive body jerk. His hand slips from between my legs, and I cry out when I lose the thickness of his two fingers.

I have to take a second to let my heart to slow down and then turn my body so I can look into his eyes.

“How can you still be hard?” I pant in question.

“Have you taken a good look at yourself, Willow? Your body is what wet dreams are made of, and after finally knowing what it feels like to have that lusciousness meeting my brutal thrusting—fuck, I’m not sure I’ll ever get rid of my hard-on.”

My face warms at his words, and I love the pride-like feeling that comes over me at his praise.

“I used to hate this lush body you seem not to be able to get enough of, but when you say those kinds of things to me, I really believe them.” His face goes soft, and he loses some, but not all, of the harshness to his features that his desire has brought forward. “I never thought I would have this, Kane. Never. The way you look at me makes me feel like the most powerful woman in the world.”

My legs open when he moves his body slightly, and he reaches for my leg to pull it over his waist. We’re both on our sides, our faces sharing one pillow as our breathing comes out to dance between us. His dick settles between my center and he gives a few thrusts of his hips to coat himself with my wetness.

“Watch me,” he tells me and then kisses me softly.

Reaching over to the side of the bed, he grabs a condom from the box he opened earlier after searching for it in one of the packed boxes and covers himself. When he comes back to me, he puts his back to the bed and pulls me to straddle his hips. My yelp of surprise is quickly followed by a moan when he helps me lift up and guides myself on him.

“Watch us,” he continues on a moan when I seat myself completely on his length.

“Feel us,” he groans, his eyes closing to slits and his hands giving my sides a squeeze.

I rock forward and slowly lift myself. He doesn’t move, but his eyes roam over my face and down my body. I follow his lead and look down at myself. My breasts sway each time I circle my waist. Each one heavy as it shakes with not just my body’s movements, but also with my rapid breathing.

“See us.” His voice is not more than a harsh pant dripping with arousal. “Fuck,” he continues. The erotic image of my body taking his seems to become too much, and he brings his eyes back to my face.

Arching my back and bending forward, my hands come to his chest and I use him as leverage to pick up speed. My hair fans out around our faces, and he looks at me through his mask of euphoria.

“Look. Down. And see,” he puffs severely through his clenched jaw.

I lose his eyes when he looks at our joined bodies, and I bend my head down a little more to follow his gaze. My breasts are now heaving with the force as I’m sliding him in and out of my body, and the sight makes me pick up my speed. I bite my lip when they start to move together and the feeling of them rubbing against each other makes me moan. I look past them and when I see myself opening around his thick dick, I feel myself get wetter, and my breaths come in quicker bursts.

“Lean up,” he grunts, and I comply with his demand. “See and feel, love.”

My eyes watch his hands as he brings them up my torso; I follow his path and when his hands cup my breasts, I let out a long and loud moan, my hips jerking and his dick jerking inside me. I see my body through his eyes, the ones that feast on every inch of skin he touches when he drags those dexterous fingers back down. My stomach clenches and my body tightens around his length. He ends his exploration with one hand holding tightly to my side, his fingers holding me so tightly that they’re white, and the pleasure I feel from the bite of pain of his grip makes me rock even quicker against him. His other hand moves down the center of my body until he hits the spot where our bodies are joined. My eyes leave his hand for just a second to look at his face, to witness what he sees with just one glance.

His face is flush, and his mouth is opened slightly. His rapid breathing is noisy through the opening, and he groans when his finger hits my clit and I jerk my hips roughly against him. His eyes are almost completely black from his dilated pupils when he moves his study from my body and meets my eyes.

“Now feel me,” he commands, and in one rapid burst of energy, he has our positions flipped and I’m screaming his name as he thrusts into my body violently. My headboard slams against the wall, the wood audibly making a noise that tells me it’s about to break.

He continues the forcefulness as his body powers into mine. Both arms locked tight, he’s holding his body up from the mattress and giving me a view between us.

“Fuck, you were made for me,” he rumbles. “Look at how you take me, Willow. See how beautiful it is when I fuck you hard and each part of your soft body welcomes every powerful inch of my hard body. Goddamn, this body was made for mine. Made for me.”

His voice is raw, the exertion of his movements bringing out the hunger we both feel. The frame of my bed continues to complain when his speed picks up and I’m unable to look away from the sight of him taking me deliciously hard. My body tightens harshly and my limbs lock as a tidal wave of feelings breaks over every inch. I hear him grunt, stutter in his thrust in, and my body locks even more.

My throat feels sore as I scream his name and a whole bunch of other incoherent gibberish as I splinter into a million pieces. When I hear his own roar of pleasure, blackness is edging around my vision and the last thing I remember is hearing how much he loves me.

I step out of the shower and run the towel over my sore body. A sore body that I hope always feels this way.

Well used and well loved.

I can hear Kane speaking on the other side of the bathroom door and shiver when the deep, rough tones hit my ears. We had spent the morning wrapped around each other, but after he made me pass out with the force of our coupling, we haven’t made love again.