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with masculine power, thicker and harder than any cock she had ever touched before.
    Okay, bigger than Marc’s—the only other cock she had ever touched.
    She continued to explore, gliding her palm over the satiny tip, spreading the silky moisture she found there, gently cupping his heavy balls in her hand.
    He caught her wrist. “Don’t,” he rasped. “I can’t come yet, not this fast, not in front of these guys. At least let me be inside you.”
    Inside her. Kayla wanted that too, more than anything, and they spent a few frenzied moments searching for the condom, which he eventually shook out of the folds in his jeans. Breathlessly she watched him roll it on his cock, wondering how they were going to do this. The ground looked rough and uninviting, as did the two low, stone altars at either end of the room. Still, she was desperate enough that she would happily sacrifice a layer of skin off her butt just to feel some release.
    Luckily he had a better idea, because he put his hands on her waist and lifted her. “Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered.
    They were going to do it standing up? Was that even possible? Apparently so, because the next moment she felt the tip of his cock nudging her entrance. Kayla only had a second to grab his shoulders for balance, and then he began to lower her down onto his erection.
    She was wet and more than ready, but his cock was so very much bigger than she had previously encountered. Every delicious inch stretched her like she had never been stretched before. She closed her eyes, panting, biting back any protest that may have slowed him down. Because she didn’t want him to slow. Barely halfway in, though, he seemed to realize she was struggling to take him.
    “Hang on. We don’t need to go so fast.”
    He tried to stop, but Kayla fought him. They did need to go so fast. She wanted this like she’d never wanted anything before. She wanted what the women on the murals were getting. She wanted to be fucked for the first time in her life instead of Marc’s hesitant, “Is this okay? Are you sure?”
    “No. Don’t stop,” she pleaded.
    But he held himself stock-still, gripping her buttocks, his thigh muscles quivering with the strain.
    Kayla locked gazes with him. “Fuck me,” she snarled, impatiently but inexpertly using her legs to pull herself down onto him. They both gasped as her action speared him into her.
    “Ah!” She threw her head back and cried out. As her pussy lips met his pubes, she felt split apart, even as delicious heat began to spread throughout her body.
    Sweat had broken out on his skin, slick under her grasping fingers. “Slow down,” he said, still fighting her. “We don’t need to rush—”
    “I don’t want slow. I’m sick of slow.”
    “Are you sure? It’s—“
    “I’m sure,” she said sharply. Surrounded by all these primitive images, and with her arousal off the scale, Kayla had had enough of modern-day consideration. She wanted to be taken.
    Grinding herself down onto him, she instinctively found the exact place the friction would do the most good. “Do it. Fuck me and never stop.”
    “A woman who knows what she wants.” He laughed and altered his stance, changing his center of gravity. Then he too began moving, lifting her buttocks before slamming her down onto his cock. Kayla clung to his neck for dear life as the tempo increased, and the slap of flesh on flesh filled the cave-like room as he bounced her on his cock, every second taking her closer to the edge.
    Yes, she did know what she wanted. She wanted this urgent, frantic coupling that had been completely missing from her life. She felt so full, so completely full she would have thrown her head back and howled in triumph if she’d had the breath to do so.
    Stuff her paintings. Stuff her art project. Her trip to Mexico was worth every penny for this moment alone.
    “Harder,” she begged, and he obeyed. Gripping her buttocks, he rammed upward, and she clung to him like a