Room 512 (2)
I gasp… no, wail… as he fills me in one deep, brutal stroke. My body stretches to take him, wet and aching, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
His muscles flex above me, arms tense, veins standing out as he holds himself back. A bead of sweat slides down his neck and over his chest, catching the light as it drips between his hard, defined pecs.
“Fuuuck,” he groans above me, voice low and strained. “You’re hugging my cock like it’s the only thing you’ve ever needed, baby.”
I claw at his back, nails digging in as he starts to move. Slow at first, thick and deep, like he wants me to feel every inch of him dragging against my walls. I moan louder with each thrust, my body clinging to his like it knows this moment was always going to happen.
“Say it,” he pants, gripping my hips like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. “Say this pussy was meant for me.”
“It’s yours,” I cry out, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, Tyler….it’s always been yours.”
He slams into me harder, faster. My body jerks up the bed with every thrust.
“That’s right,” he growls. “You wrote me letters about this tight little cunt, and now I’m the one owning it. You’re gonna come on this cock like you were born to.”
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and pounds into me deeper. I cry out, gripping the sheets, my mind splintering.
“Oh God—oh my God—”
“No, baby,” he grits, sweat dripping down his temple. “Tonight you come for me. No one else. You moan my name—and only mine. Got it?”
“Yes,” I gasp, voice barely a whisper. “Only yours, Tyler. I swear….just yours.”
His hand wraps around my throat, not tight, just enough to make me gasp… and the pressure sends another wave crashing through me. I tighten around him, moaning helplessly as he pounds into me like he’s been starving for years.
“You like being choked while you’re fucked, huh?” he growls. “You filthy little thing. How many times did you touch yourself thinking about this?”
“Too many,” I whimper. “I used to rub myself raw pretending it was you—”
“Fuck,” he growls, slamming into me even harder. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. I’d dreamed of this for years… fantasized, wrote about it, touched myself to the memory of his voice… and now it’s real. He’s real. Inside me, over me, claiming me as if he’s always wanted me.
He crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me like he’s trying to mark my soul. Our bodies are a mess of sweat and need, even with the air conditioner on. My skin’s on fire, my pulse screaming through my veins.
His fingers find my clit again, rubbing fast, relentless circles as his thrusts grow erratic.
“Come with me,” he pants. “I wanna feel you milk my cock while I’m buried inside you.”
“Tyler—” I cry out, already on the edge. “I’m gonna—”
“Do it. Now.”
I break. Not just my body, but everything. My orgasm hits like a supernova, stealing my breath and curling my toes. It feels like every dirty letter, every lonely night, every moment I spent wanting him hits me all at once. It’s so intense, I swear I forget my own name.
He comes right after me, growling in my ear as his thrusts turn rough and uneven. At the last second, he pulls out, gripping his wet, hard cock and stroking it fast while he kneels over my stomach.
“Fuck—look at you,” he rasps.
His eyes lock on mine as hot spurts land across my chest, streaking over my perky, medium-sized tits, my nipples still hard from the aftershocks of my orgasm. One thick line hits the soft curve of my right breast, and another falls between them, shining on my flushed skin.
“You see that?” he pants. “Told you I’d mark you.”
I’m still gasping, drunk on the heat of him, on the way he looks at me like I’m the filthiest, most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“You look even better painted in me,” he murmurs, smearing it across my tits in slow, possessive circles.
“Fucking perfect.”
He lowers my leg and collapses beside me, arm still wrapped around my waist, like he’s afraid I’ll float away if he lets go.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
I blink up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling like I just survived something dangerous and holy.
Tyler chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair. “You were worth the wait.”
I roll my head toward him, still flushed and raw. I haven’t even had my hands on him yet, and he has no idea what I’m going to do when I do. “So,” I say, catching my breath, “what brings you to this hotel, anyway? Please don’t tell me you came here to fuck random women from your past.”
He laughs. “Nah. I’m in town for a wedding.”
“Oh?” I lift a brow. “Whose?”
“Damon’s.”
I freeze. “Damon Carter?”
He smirks. “Yeah. You know him?”
“I’m going too,” I say, blinking. “He’s my cousin’s husband’s best friend.”
Tyler’s grin turns wicked. “Well, well. Looks like we’re getting a rematch sooner than I thought.”
I blush. Blush, like I didn’t just scream his name with a dildo staring at me three minutes ago.
“I’m not wearing panties to the reception,” I say, just to regain the upper hand.
He whistles low, dragging his gaze down my still-naked body. “You show up like that, baby, I might bend you over the gift table.”
“Try it,” I dare, biting my lip.
He grins, rolling on top of me again. “Round two?”
I moan as he kisses me again, deeper this time.
Looks like it’s going to be a very long wedding weekend.
