Chloe Bennett
My knees go weak, and I shudder against him, and I feel him smile into me. He laps me up and lays me on the bed. He arranges me how he wants me and spreads my legs open for his gaze.
“So . . . f*****g perfect,” he whispers to himself.
With urgency, he tears his shirt over his head and slides his jeans down. His c**k hangs heavy and hard between his legs.
He’s so beautiful . . . the perfect male specimen.
I smile up at him, and then he goes to his pocket and takes out a condom. Uneasiness fills me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I want you more than once, and I don’t want to lose the sensitivity.”
I frown as I watch him roll it on . . . that’s weird; in the past, he always made me roll them on him.
He lies beside me on the bed and runs his fingers through my hair as he
