POV: Alaric
I tried to push her thong aside, but the slick material kept obstructing my free access to her wetness.
Hell, I ripped it off, and she gasped at the force.
"Sorry," I murmured, though there wasn't an ounce of regret in my voice. "It was in the way."
I gripped her thighs, positioning her exactly how I wanted.
I was in the mood to fuck her while she stood facing me, looking into my eyes to see the raw hunger that can never be satiated.
She was so much smaller than me, her frame delicate compared to mine, but those heels she wore? They were a blessing. They made this perfect.
Her brows furrowed, innocent curiosity flickering in her expression as she watched me press the thick head of my cock against her entrance. "How… how do we do this?"
The innocence in her voice made my blood heat.
I leaned in, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear as I whispered, "Ever heard of the standing missionary?"
She hesitated, then shook her head.
