A Match Made in Vegas Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement1

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He adds another finger, stretching me wider. Again, it's too much for a moment, then it's just right.

He teases me with a few thrusts of his fingers.

Slowly, my body relaxes around his digits.

Enough to take him.

Fuck, I want to take him.

"Fuck me," I breathe.

In response, he releases me and unzips his slacks.

I tear off the condom and slide onto the couch so I'm straddling him.

I bend enough to roll the condom over his cock, then I sit up straight, and I look him in the eyes.

There's something in his soft green eyes. Something I want to capture and hold on to forever. A haziness. A bliss.

A need for more of me. All of me.

Something passes between us. A mix of need and anticipation and understanding.

I want to tease him forever. I want to draw this moment out, to savor it as long as I can.

But I need him now.

In a way I've never needed anything.

I bring my hands to his shoulders, and I use them for leverage as I sink onto his cock.

He slides inside me, one sweet inch at a time.

My body stretches to take him. My flesh wraps around his.

Even with the latex in the way, I feel his hardness, his girth, his warmth.

I feel that connection between us. Our bodies joined as one. There's an intimacy to it. An undeniable intimacy.

I want to swim in it. I want to live in it. I want all of it, forever.

But this isn't about forever.

This is about right now.

I look down at him as I pull up and take him again.

Slowly.

Savoring every inch.

Then, one perfect moment, to soak in the feeling of him deep inside me.

Again.

And again.

And again.

He brings one hand to my hip. He brings the other to my breast. He toys with me with slow strokes of his thumb as I take him again and again.

A beautiful circle of teasing and touch.

Then he brings his lips to my chest, takes my nipple in his mouth, and I nearly go over the edge.

That feels too good.

And I want too much more.

He teases me with soft flicks of his tongue. Then harder. Faster.

My movements speed with his. Get more intense.

That's what he needs. What we both need.

I move in time with him, taking him again and again.

The pressure inside me builds. It feels so fucking good. I'm so close.

But I'm not quite there.

I always need external stimulation to come. Usually, I wait and finish after. Some guys take it personally if I touch myself during sex. Some guys absolutely can't stand it if I use a sex toy with them.

I don't have a toy with me, but I'm plenty good with my hands.

And I trust Jackson to take it the right way.

No, to find it hot as fuck.

I slip my hand between my legs.

It's a tight fit, with my body so close to his, but I find the spot I need.

"Touch yourself, baby." He breathes. "Come on my cock."

Fuck.

The term of endearment makes my heart swell.

The dirty demand makes my sex clench.

Every part of me wants every part of him.

This is the best I've ever had. Good in a way I've never experienced before.

The tension in my sex winds quickly. Tighter and tighter and tighter, then I'm there, pulsing against him, pulling him deeper, groaning his name as I come.

He works me through my orgasm, then he brings his hands to my hips, and he guides me exactly how he needs me.

A little more back and forth.

A little faster.

He takes his time finding the stroke, but I don't let him have it. I rotate my hips in figure eights until I find the pattern that makes him groan.

I do it again.

Again.

Again.

Then he's there, pulsing inside me, groaning into my chest as he comes.

Fuck, it's been too long.

That feels too good.

I've never been this satisfied.

After he's finished, I collapse on top of him, sticky and spent.

He helps me untangle our bodies; he takes care of the condom with a cloth napkin, and he helps me into my dress.

Then we lie there, tangled together, soaking in the warmth of the night and the perfect feeling of the city being ours.

One weekend in Vegas.

And so much I want to do to him.

After we catch our breath, we finish our drinks and order another round at the bar.

A couple in wedding gear strolls through the doors, drunk and delirious, from happiness or alcohol, I can't tell.

The bride, a short redhead in a full-on ivory princess gown, tosses the bouquet she's holding in the air.

I catch it without thinking.

She smiles and wraps her arms around her groom, a tall Asian guy in a tuxedo. "Congrats. You're next. The chapel is right around the corner." She winks and skips to the elevator.

The groom skips with her.

Jackson and I share a look. What a strange, drunk couple.

We order another round.


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