The waves crashed against the shore like they were trying to fuck the sand raw, and I was already wet before Conrad even touched me. We’d been circling each other all summer at the beach house, the tension thick enough to choke on. Tonight the others were gone, and the place was ours. I found him in the kitchen, shirt off, that lean swimmer’s body still damp from a late swim. Water beaded on his chest and trailed down the cut of his abs straight into the low waistband of his shorts.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, voice low and rough like he’d been thinking dirty thoughts for hours.
I stepped closer, letting my thin tank top do nothing to hide how hard my nipples were. “Not with you walking around like that.”
Conrad didn’t waste time with more talk. He grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the counter like I weighed nothing. His mouth crashed into mine, tongue pushing deep, tasting like salt and beer. One hand shoved my tank up and over my head, and then his fingers were on my tits, pinching and rolling my nipples until I moaned into his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re already soaked,” he growled when his hand slid between my legs. He yanked my shorts and panties down in one rough tug, leaving me bare on the cool marble. Two thick fingers pushed straight into my cunt, curling hard against that spot that made my thighs shake. He pumped them fast, thumb grinding on my clit, and I was dripping down his wrist in seconds.
I reached for his cock, freeing it from his shorts. It was heavy, hot, and already leaking at the tip. I stroked him hard, matching the rhythm of his fingers inside me. “Want this in my mouth first,” I panted.
Conrad pulled his fingers out, shoved them between my lips so I could taste myself, then dropped to his knees. He spread my thighs wide and buried his face in my pussy, tongue fucking me deep before sucking hard on my clit. I grabbed his hair and rode his face, grinding against that perfect mouth while he groaned like he couldn’t get enough. When he added two fingers again and started finger-fucking me while he licked, I came hard, thighs clamping around his head, cunt pulsing and gushing over his tongue.
He stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and spun me around. My chest hit the counter. He kicked my legs apart and slammed into me in one thrust, burying that thick cock balls-deep. I cried out at the stretch, the way he filled me completely. Conrad didn’t go slow.
He fucked me like he’d been waiting all summer, hips snapping hard, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the kitchen.
“Take it,” he grunted, one hand fisting my hair, the other reaching around to rub my swollen clit. “This tight little cunt was made for me.”
I pushed back to meet every thrust, moaning every filthy thing I could think of. “Harder, Conrad. Fuck me like you own it. Fill me up.”
He pulled out, flipped me onto my back on the counter, and drove back in. My legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded me, sweat-slicked skin sliding together. Every thrust dragged over that perfect spot inside me until I was shaking again. He leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make me clench around him.
When I came the second time, it was louder, messier, my cunt milking his cock while I screamed his name. Conrad followed right after, burying himself deep and pumping me full, hot pulses of cum flooding me until it leaked out around his shaft.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard, his forehead against mine. After a minute he pulled out slow, watching his cum drip from my used pussy. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom.
Round two started with me on all fours and his mouth on my ass while his fingers worked my clit again. By the time the sun came up we’d fucked in every room, on every surface, and I was sore in the best way, marked with his teeth and full of his cum. Conrad Fisher didn’t do gentle. He did raw, filthy, and exactly what I needed.
