Breathing Him

Leila

Christopher rocked inside me, pushing hard and deep with every thrust. I curled my fists into the comforter, holding on as he rode me fast and hard. My breasts bounced with every thrust. He was a man on a mission. He let go of all that control he usually wielded. I held on with all my might, pushing back to keep from being sent flying over the edge of the bed.

The crunchy hairs on his legs brushed against the back of my thighs. He was rubbing me in all the right places, making my body hot and achy.

“Oh God, Christopher,” I breathed his name when I felt the third orgasm begin a slow climb.

It was so good. It was addictive and even as I was pushed closer to the peak, all I could think about was the next time. I wanted there to be many next times. I was addicted to the man. He was turning me into a nymphomaniac. I thought about sex all the time. Not just sex—his sex. His body fit inside mine perfectly. He filled every inch and made me want more.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “A little