Naughty Bits. Megan Hart
the walls of her sex clench around his swollen cock.
“So fucking tight,” he murmurs.
And then he is driving harder into her, and she is coming apart, her climax pounding into her, overwhelming her. She is lost, drowning in pleasure, shaking with the force of it.
And he is still fucking her, fucking her, driving her orgasm on. Moments later he tenses, shivers, cries out as he comes, one hand gripping her ass, his nails biting deep. The other hand still holds her face, so that she is forced to look at him. And she loves the way he just comes apart, his mouth so full and soft as he groans, his eyes closed, his head falling back.
And still his hips are moving, his cock still hard somehow. And she is coming again, her body tensing, clenching. He senses what is happening, reaches down and takes her clit between his fingers, pinching, tugging. Pleasure, intense, freeing, surges through her, driving deep. And she is left panting and weak. And as sated as she has ever been in her life.
He pulls out of her and she expects him to move away. But after tugging the condom off, he rolls onto his side, pulling her close. Her head against his chest, she can hear his heart hammering beneath her ear. His body is warm. He smells more like the ocean than ever.
They sleep. When she wakes it is fully dark. She has no idea what time it is. It doesn’t matter.
She slips from the bed and brings a bottle of wine—a fruity red from Chile—back to the bed, along with a plate of fruit and some pastries she bought that morning from a vendor on the beach.
Moonlight washes through the half-open shutters, blue and silver in the dark room. And she can see that he is awake, watching her.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
“Hey.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No. Stay here with me. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” He sits up in the bed, takes the wine from her, uncorks it and drinks from the bottle before passing it back to her.
She has set the plate on the bed, and he takes the knife she laid on the edge of the plate and peels an apple, then cuts it into pieces and offers her one. She bites into the apple, the cool sweetness filling her mouth. She follows it with a long sip of the wine. Everything seems utterly sensual to her: the fruit, the wine, the scent of sex in the air, the heat of his body next to hers. And outside the windows, the pulsing beat of the ocean crashing on the shore.
They sit on the bed and feed each other, pulling the pastry apart with their fingers. It’s sweet with honey. They wash it down with the wine. And when they’re both full, he pours a little of the wine on her naked skin, then licks it off until she is wet and aching, begging him to fuck her again.
He turns her onto her stomach this time, pulls her up onto her knees. She is shivering, as he uses his fingers to part her pussy lips, at the sound of a foil packet tearing.
He enters her with his fingers first, sliding right inside. She surges back onto his hand, pleasure shafting through her in long, rippling waves.
“You’re so wet, so ready.”
“Yes…”
He pulls his fingers from her and in a moment the head of his cock is pushing inside her. He is so big, filling her inch by inch, the ring sliding against her G-spot. His arm wraps around her waist, his other hand going into her hair, grasping tight, pulling her head up. She feels taken over, commanded. And she gives herself over to it, to him, as he begins to fuck her, moving slowly at first, then harder, faster. Pleasure seeps into her system, flooding her belly, her arms, her legs. And her sex is clenching, swollen, ready to explode.
When his hand moves down, massaging her wet cleft, pressing onto her clit, she comes, hard. Waves of pleasure wrack her body, stinging, swift as the ocean current. And she is shaking, nearly sobbing with the power of it.
She is surprised when he pulls out of her, left empty, bereft. But his hand is there, his lovely, soft fingers, pushing into her, pulling out, wiping her juices all over her pussy lips and back, over her anus. He leans in and plants wet kisses down her spine, and she arches her back, loving the sensation. She is hypersensitive all over, her skin, every part of her body, from coming so much, from his touch. He parts his lips, swirls his tongue over her lower back, and at the same time he slips one finger into her anus.
“Shh, relax,” he whispers.
And she does. This is the first time that hole has been breached, but at this moment, it is utterly sensual. With his other hand he teases her clitoris into a hard nub once more. She can hardly believe her body is still able to feel pleasure. But it moves through her in a warm wash of desire, longing.
He presses his finger deeper. “Breathe,” he tells her, his voice quiet, soothing. There is sex in his voice, his own desire held tight.
She does as he asks, breathing in, pulling in that scent of ocean and sex and him. And she is shivering once more. He moves his finger in, slides it out. She has never felt anything quite like it, a sense of fullness, and yet, she wants more.
“Fuck me. Please.”
He plays her anus with his finger for another few moments, making her surge back, taking more of him in.
“Please,” she begs again.
His hand moves away and she feels the head of his cock at that tightest of holes. And she is wet again, trembling with a need that rages through her. He spreads her buttocks, pushes the tip of his cock in. And at the same time, he rubs her clit in small circles with his thumb, pushes a few fingers into her sex. Pleasure, wild and keen, cuts into her like a knife. She cries out. He answers by pushing into her deeper, fingers and cock all at once. Inch by exquisite inch, telling her to breathe, to relax.
But she is already liquid all over. Liquid and wanting everything from him. Anything.
He takes it slow and it seems to go on forever, his cock working its way into her ass, his thumb circling her clit, his fingers dipping inside her.
Just when she is beginning to think he is too tentative with her, he steps up the pace, sliding in and out of her ass, her pussy, filling her, stretching her. Lovely, painful. She is dizzy with sensation, in a state of overload. But all she can do is thrust back against him, pleasure infusing her, emptying her mind. She is nothing more than these sensations, this body being fucked in every possible way. And she is loose and free in a way she has never been before.
This is what she’s needed, what she’s been searching for, she thinks fleetingly, even though she didn’t know it until this moment.
Pleasure builds, deepens, rolls over her body in long waves. Excruciating. Sharper, heavier, until she is completely weighed down by it. She collapses on the bed, but he is still fucking her, relentless, his hand working her mercilessly. She is coming again, shards of pure pleasure stabbing into her. She is sobbing, crying out, shaking so hard her teeth are clattering together. Coming so hard she can’t think of anything at all but the exquisite sensations moving through her body, a body which no longer belongs to her, but to him.
He tenses, growls, pumps into her ass. And it hurts, his pumping cock—and to know that it’s over, this experience.
He lies on top of her. He is shivering as hard as she is. He wipes the tears from her cheek, doesn’t say a word. They lie together for a long time, and at some point, they sleep.
Dawn comes as it always does on the Veracruz beach, with an edge of chill to the otherwise warm and sultry air. But he is warm beside her, the sound of his breath a quiet sigh.
She lies on her back, remembers why she needed to leave Corpus Christi. Remembers her broken heart, which is no longer broken.
Her stranger has healed her, somehow. He is like some magical creature, except that the physical reality of him is all too real—his sleeping form next to her, the lovely ache in her body.
As she watches him, his eyes open. They are that