Read Our Lips! Book Review Blog: NSFW–The Dirty Romantic October 12, 2012

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Taken

I place my hands around your waist and pull you up towards me, causing a small gasp to escape from you. You present yourself to me and I can see how wet you are, how ready you are for this. I rest a hand lightly on your backside, stroking the soft curve, running my hand down the smooth skin. I pull my hand back and slap your arse fast and hard. I see you flinch, as another gasp slips out and I slap you again.

As my hand rests where the sting radiates across your backside, leaving an ever so slight redness to that soft, white flesh, I move my other hand to your waist. My hands tighten around you, pushing down on you, holding you tight.
I feel you tense against the pressure, shifting with need. I can almost hear you bite your lip even though your face is down among the pillows. Without a word, I’m inside you. I’ve waited too long for this now to hold back any longer, I want and need to fuck you, take you.
My cock pushes your wet lips apart, forcing you open, and I drive myself all the way inside you. My hips slam into you, pushing you forward even against my grip. I stop, and savour the moment of total penetration where I am so deep inside you. But the animal part of me needs more, wants a pure physical sensation of the rough fuck. I slide back out and once more push into you. My hips begin to build into a rhythm which you start to mirror. With each thrust, you push back with a matching groan of desire.
“Yesyesohfuckme. Fuck me harder! Fuck me . . . ”
Your voice is soft to start with and I can barely hear you over the sound of my own breathing. But you grow louder in demands in time with the urgency of my movements.
I slide one hand from your hips and along your back, wrapping my fingers through your beautiful thick, black hair. As I push in for my next thrust, I pull back on your hair, arching your back, the feeling of power and control over your body feeding straight between my thighs.
I slap your arse again, hard, the redness stays to signal even more force as I push inside you, pulling ever harder on your hair. You respond to my touch. Your groans turn into shouts, demanding more of me. My hand slaps you once more, then slides to your hips. I push you onto the bed. I’m getting close now, the pressure too much to contain. I want that final ultimate feeling of taking you as I want, using you to fulfill my most basic need. With both of my hands on your hips, clawing at your flesh, my fingers digging hard into your flesh, bruising you. I push you down and force you open.
The sparks fly through my mind and I close my eyes. Every part of me is focused on that one spot inside you as I pulse and convulse against you. The warmth of you engulfing me; every movement by you magnified as those sparks spread out to a warmth behind my eyes.
The final sensations leave me, and I slump against you, seeking comfort against your skin as we slide on to the bed. With my face near yours, I watch that contented smirk start in your eyes, almost hidden beneath your shaggy fringe of hair I adore so much. I know it won’t be long before we start again, making the most of these stolen hours . . .