My Favorite That I Wrote 🤗
He's everywhere.
You can feel him, and he hasn't even touched you yet.
His hands have forever made a brand of claim on your skin – you wear it, in the kisses that have turned to bruises, the gentle bite marks that lay scattered along your thighs and hips.
You can smell him.
You can taste the lingering scent of his cologne, as it dances like burning fire on the tip of your tongue...
The heavy scent of your arousal filters through the air – it's venomous and addicting.
It's heated and perfect; creating just the perfect amount of friction, as you gather your nectar between trembling fingertips...
The bedsheets are a stark contrast of silky coolness, against your heated skin...
It feels like you're burning alive.
Yet, you don't want to wavier from this moment... You want to be a good girl.
You want to be his good girl.
He's watching you – sitting across the room.
You can feel his eyes, setting your soul ablaze, the longer his eyes flicker between the curves and perfection of your body...
He's watching you.
Bloody hell...
You're being such a good girl – he's whispered it into the shimmering darkness.
His voice is like ecstasy – it makes your mind fuzzy and alters everything in you...
It makes you want to behave – you love hearing him give you praise.
"Play with your pretty pussy for me, sweetness... I want you ready for me... I want to see how you play with her..."
You're bare for him, stretched out on his bed, three fingers deep inside you, as your velvet walls clench around your tiny fingers.
It's a good friction; but nothing can compare to the size of him.
He knows what you need... He knows how to fill you to the brim, where you can see stars no matter the time of day.
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick.
Once upon a time – he was nothing more than your teammate, your Sergeant... And slowly, he became your friend; someone you could count on.
And in time, he became your lover.
As the weeks became months, that word became a heated breath – he became your everything...
He became your anchor.
-
"Such a perfect girl, aren't you?"
His voice is dripping in sin, it's laced in tender love...
You can feel your stomach clenching, as the coil tightens by just a hair – your fingers can only do so much.
You want to be greedy and beg for his fingers, they're long and wiry; he knows where to hit, and how to make you submit.
But you want also need to be his perfect girl – he doesn't ask much of you...
Only to listen to him; he likes to watch before he plays with you – loves to watch as you squirm beneath him...
He loves to taste your cries, as he buries himself so deep, he kisses your womb.
You're withering under his heavy gaze, the friction is slowly building – it's within reach, you can nearly taste the release.
"B-Baby," you whimper between moans, as you draw your attention to your little bundle of nerves.
You can hear him moving – can hear the soft padding as he moves towards you.
"That's it gorgeous, give me everything," he draws closer.
You can feel the heat of him.
"Can I come, sir?"
You look up between heavy lidded eyes as sweat drips on parched lips.
"Come for me."
The coil inside you snaps, it's a silent scream – but he knows, his name is embedded like a prayer on your lips.
"There she is."
Suddenly, it's too much.
But it's not enough.
The cold shock of his fingers are a welcomed relief, as he attacks your dripping pussy; his movements are fast and rough.
He needs more.
"Kyle!" You grip onto his arm, back arching off the bed, as you feel the onset of another orgasm slowly creeping up.
"I need you to give me another one baby – give me another one and I'll give you anything you want..."
You can hear the strain in his voice – it's desire and passion.
It's lust and love...
"Kiss me... God, please kiss me... I want..."
The kiss is euphoric.
He swallows your moans, slowly stealing the air from your lungs – he needs to feel your burn.
He pulls away, just slightly – other hand cradling your head, to rest your forehead against him; eyes closed, as he gets lost in the feeling of you...
"I love you."
Your moans have turned into soft whimpers, you're begging and pleading – for what? You aren't sure.
"I need to be inside you," his voice is trembling, it's hanging by a sheer thread of self-control.
"Then do it," you feel the twist in the coil, "Mark me as yours..."
