His boxers go next—thrown somewhere behind him as he turns to face me. He reaches for me at the same time I grab for him. I roughly slide his cheek back with my palm, opening his mouth for me as I spear him with my tongue. Catching his groan of pleasure as I dig my nails into his scalp, holding him to me. He falls on his back once more as I take the upper hand, shoving him down and leaning over him. I let go of his head and grab his wrist, lifting it up next to his ear. Slamming the knuckles of his hand into the wood, just as he did to me before. Maybe we’ll have matching bruises.
