Page 72 of His Old Lady

She inhaled a trembling breath. "I don't know what you're thinking. What this means to you."

"What's it mean to you?"

She hated when he refused to answer and, in return, asked another question, expecting her to reply...knowing she would. It was hard enough to think coherent thoughts with him inside her body and her arousal distracting her.

That's why she said, "I'm scared you're going to break my heart again."

He flinched, his gaze narrowing. Not giving her any hint about what was going on with him, he lifted her off him.

She plopped down on the mattress, dazed at the loss of him. Unprepared, she found herself pushed over until she was face down on the mattress.

Curley got behind her on the bed and lifted her hips. His hand landed on her upper back, pushing her upper body down. She turned her head, getting the blanket out of her face and fisted the sheet.

She moaned, taken by surprise at him thrusting into her pussy from behind. Before she could gain her next breath, he pounded into her.

Her heart beat wildly, threatening to burst out of her chest. The force of how he took her left no room for her to guess how he felt about her.

He showed her through sex what he refused to say.

Then, to her surprise, his words came as he relentlessly gave her every inch of himself. Over and over.

"I've always wanted you." He grunted, plunging hard enough her knees came up off the bed, and she was solely in his hands. "You're mine."

"But you're not mine." She panted. "You won't let yourself be."

She moaned, held hostage by her body's reaction to him. Her breasts, heavy and pressed against the mattress, ached for his touch.

He made her a gasping, needy mess. She bit her lower lip, expecting each thrust. Waiting for each thrust. Desperate for each thrust.

Once again, her soul was at the surface. Her desire for Curley bared to his view, his touch, his possession. All she'd ever wanted was him, and there was nothing that would change her feelings.

"You don't know," he muttered, shifting behind her.

He slid his hand between her legs. His fingers found her clit without his cock leaving her body. The stroke on the sensitive numb arched her back, and her legs almost straightened but for Curley's arm looping around her waist, keeping her up.

Instead of pumping into her, he held himself still. All the attention went to his fingers. Those big, rough fingers. They worked magic over her.

Her insides curled tighter, and her wetness coated his movements. Her pelvis moved against his hand as her back arched more.

Whimpering, she clung to the bed, unable to stop the spiral she was caught in. Curley worked her like a puppet master, making her dance. Making her love him.

She needed more.

He gave her more.

Taking his cock out of her, he slapped the hardness against her butt, sliding up and down her slit while his finger circled her clitoris. He left her guessing what he was going to do. He gave her cravings, she had no idea she had. She rocked on the bed, her sex pulsating.

Her core clenched, straining. "Curley. Cur...ley."

His hand left her. His cock left her. At the cusp of an orgasm, she moaned her objection. She wanted him back.

Opening her mouth to beg, he knocked the breath out of her as he slammed his cock inside of her.

"Take it." He pounded her.

Out of control and in his control, her pleasure circled, greedily sucking him in. Her climax exploded, ripping a scream out of her lungs.

Her orgasm lasted long enough, she worried if he'd killed her when suddenly, he thrust deeply into her and pressed her flat to the mattress. Held under his weight, she trembled at the violent shudder rocking his body.