"Your turn," I say, my voice still rough and raspy from crying out, and I slide off his lap to kneel between his legs on the floor, my knees hitting the cool wooden boards.
His eyes go wide and he lifts his hips to help me as I pull his jeans and boxer briefs down together in one motion. His cock springs free, hard and thick and flushed dark at the tip. I wrap my hand around the base, feeling the heat and weight of him in my palm, the way he pulses against my skin.
"Fuck," he breathes, his head falling back.
I stroke him slowly, base to tip, feeling every inch of him, watching precum bead at the tip of his cock. I lean in and lick it off with a flat tongue, tasting the salty-sweet of him, and he groans, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.
"Isabelle," he says, my name coming out strangled and desperate, and I look up at him through my lashes, holding his gaze as I take him into my mouth.
I start slow, just the head at first, my tongue swirling around the tip, exploring the shape of him, tasting him properly. He's thick enough that I have to open my jaw wide to accommodate him, and I take him deeper, inch by inch, slowly working my way down his length until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I pull back and do it again, finding my rhythm, using my hand on what I can't fit in my mouth, which is a decent amount because he's big and I can only take so much.
"Oh fuck," he groans, one hand coming to my hair. "That feels so good, you feel so fucking good, your mouth is incredible."
I suck harder, taking him as deep as I can without gagging, and his grip tightens in my hair, not painfully but firmly, like he's barely holding on to his control.
I pull off for a moment to catch my breath, still stroking him with my hand, and look up at him. His chest is heaving, his eyes are dark and glazed, his mouth is open as he pants. The sight sends a bolt of satisfaction and arousal straight through me.
"You look good like this," I say. "Falling apart for me."
"You're going to kill me," he manages, his voice strained.
"What a way to go," I say, and take him back in my mouth, working him faster now, bobbing my head and using my tongue on the underside of his shaft.
"Isabelle, I'm not going to last if you keep doing that," he warns, his voice breaking slightly, his thighs tensing under my hand.
I pull off with a wet pop, still stroking him, looking up at him with what I hope is an absolutely filthy expression.
"Good," I say simply, and take him back in my mouth, working him faster now, more deliberately, determined to reduce him to the same incoherent mess I was on the porch.
It doesn't take long. His breathing gets ragged and uneven, his thighs tense like iron under my free hand, and I can feel him getting even harder in my mouth, his cock pulsing and throbbing against my tongue.
"Isabelle, I'm going to—fuck, I'm close—" His voice is breaking and then suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me up with urgency.
"What—" I start, confused and a little indignant because I was enjoying myself, but he's already lifting me, his hands firm and strong on my waist as he hauls me up off my knees.
"I need to be inside you," he says roughly, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath coming hard and fast against my lips. "Right now. I can't—I need you."
He lifts me easily and I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, my arms looping around his neck. He takes three steps and my back hits the wall beside the door with a soft thud, the cool plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressed against mine, his chest heaving, his heart pounding so hard I can feel it against my breasts.
He holds me there with one arm around my waist, his other hand already between us, lining himself up, the head of his cock sliding through the wetness between my thighs.
"Yes," I say, and he pushes inside in one deep thrust that makes me gasp and dig my nails into his shoulders.
The stretch is intense, almost overwhelming. He's thick and I'm still sensitive from coming earlier and it's almost too much but also exactly what I need, that perfect edge between pleasure and pain. He fills me completely, every inch of him buried deep, stretching me open, and I can feel myself clenching around him, my body trying to adjust to the fullness, the pressure, the way he's splitting me open and claiming every inch of space inside me.
"Fuck," he groans. His lips move against my skin, his breath hot. His hips are already moving, pulling almost all the way out—slow, deliberately slow, letting me feel every inch as he withdraws—and then driving back in deep and hard, burying himself. "You feel so good, so fucking perfect, so tight around me?—"
I can't answer, can only hold on, my arms locked around his neck and my legs wrapped tight around his waist as he fucks me against the wall. His rhythm is fast and rough, nothing gentle about it, all raw need and desperation.
One of his hands grips my ass, fingers digging in, spreadingme wider so he can get deeper. The other is braced against the wall beside my head for leverage, his forearm flexing with each thrust, muscles shifting under his skin.
Every time he drives into me I can feel him hit something deep inside that makes sparks shoot through my entire body, makes my toes curl and my breath catch in my throat. The angle is perfect, almost too perfect, the way he's hitting that spot inside me over and over, relentless and precise. I'm making sounds I don't recognize, little gasps and whimpers that get louder with every thrust.
"Harder," I gasp out and he groans like the word physically hurt him, like I just asked him for something that might actually break him.
But his hips snap forward with more force, driving deeper, faster, harder, until I can hear the slap of skin on skin echoing in the small space, obscene and wet, can feel the wall shaking slightly behind me with the force of it, the picture frames rattling.
My head thuds back against the plaster and I don't even care, too lost in the feeling of him inside me, the stretch and drag and perfect pressure, the way he's fucking me like he owns me, like he can't get deep enough, like he wants to crawl inside my skin.