drew a groan from him as my inner muscles fluttered in response. “Keep going.” He spat the words out. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts, fingers pinching and rubbing that hot spot, fighting the need to shut my eyes against the intensity of his gaze.
The flutters became a pulse, stronger, stronger, building to a heavy throb that threatened to blank my mind. What would it be like to feel him naked inside me? Thick and hard, pushing through slick and swollen tissue. The thought knocked me off the ledge, and I smashed my hand between us as release stole everything, the air in my lungs, the words in my throat, laying waste to everything in its path.
He stilled, chest heaving. “You been holdin’ out on me.” His hips snapped against mine. “Again.”
I shook my head, nerve endings oversensitive and on high alert. “I can’t,” I gasped.
“You can.” He switched to short, shallow thrusts, rocking his hips so his pelvic bone rubbed my clit with each nudge. “C’mon. Come all over my cock.”
Sweat dripped and stuck our skin together, dampening the sheets, the salty tang sliding over my tongue as I licked along his collarbone. He was doing it again, coaxing my orgasm back to life, the aftershocks growing stronger as they mutated and became a new wave of release. I wound my legs around his waist and my hands gripped his back. I struggled to keep my eyes open. I wanted to see him. Wanted that moment where he broke apart and reformed.
One more thrust, his hips circling and pushing into mine, and I fell apart, barely aware when he cursed and held himself deep inside me.
A roaring noise filled my head, sweeping away the whispers and doubts. Calm. Utter calm. Limp, loose calm. I’d sleep tonight, no doubt. The next couple of nights. He pinned me to the bed, his face buried in my neck. “Fuck,” he mumbled. The sticky, heavy weight of him had me dreaming of things I had no business dreaming of. My head on his shoulder, the shadows dancing around us as we lay there. The room empty and silent except for our murmured, rambling conversation about nothing of importance. Nothing I’d get, not after one night. Maybe not after many nights.
Being lonely was like being in your own personal hell.
I winced as he withdrew, the cool air rushing over my superheated flesh welcome as he got up to deal with the condom. When he came back, he lay next to me, groping around until he found my hand. He brought it to his lips, the sweetness of the gesture causing a hitch in my breathing. “So is that what it takes to make you come? Dinner first?” he asked.
I twisted my head to the side, saw the grin. “What?”
He rolled and propped his head up on his hand. “Took a blow that night, ya know. Knowing I got off and you didn’t.”
Oh, you— I scowled. “If I was after an orgasm, I could have just gone home that night and had a hot date with my hand.” Which I had, after I’d left him.
His gaze heated. “I’d like to see that sometime. Watch you.”
I’d watch him. Fisting his cock, the head slick with pre-come, breathing shallow as his face twisted in a rictus of pleasure.
The sheets were bunched under me, and I shifted, trying to smooth them out. It didn’t work. I sat up and glanced down. “Okay if I shower?”
His teeth flashed in another grin. “Only if I can join you.”
My blood heated as my heart thudded to a stop. He was after my body. Mutual pleasure. It had to be part of who he was, those absent, sweet gestures. The gestures that, at the end of it all, meant nothing more than he was a nice guy.
I worked up a smile for him and headed into the bathroom. The tap flipped on with a creak of pipes, and I waited for the water to hit lukewarm before stepping under
The flutters became a pulse, stronger, stronger, building to a heavy throb that threatened to blank my mind. What would it be like to feel him naked inside me? Thick and hard, pushing through slick and swollen tissue. The thought knocked me off the ledge, and I smashed my hand between us as release stole everything, the air in my lungs, the words in my throat, laying waste to everything in its path.
He stilled, chest heaving. “You been holdin’ out on me.” His hips snapped against mine. “Again.”
I shook my head, nerve endings oversensitive and on high alert. “I can’t,” I gasped.
“You can.” He switched to short, shallow thrusts, rocking his hips so his pelvic bone rubbed my clit with each nudge. “C’mon. Come all over my cock.”
Sweat dripped and stuck our skin together, dampening the sheets, the salty tang sliding over my tongue as I licked along his collarbone. He was doing it again, coaxing my orgasm back to life, the aftershocks growing stronger as they mutated and became a new wave of release. I wound my legs around his waist and my hands gripped his back. I struggled to keep my eyes open. I wanted to see him. Wanted that moment where he broke apart and reformed.
One more thrust, his hips circling and pushing into mine, and I fell apart, barely aware when he cursed and held himself deep inside me.
A roaring noise filled my head, sweeping away the whispers and doubts. Calm. Utter calm. Limp, loose calm. I’d sleep tonight, no doubt. The next couple of nights. He pinned me to the bed, his face buried in my neck. “Fuck,” he mumbled. The sticky, heavy weight of him had me dreaming of things I had no business dreaming of. My head on his shoulder, the shadows dancing around us as we lay there. The room empty and silent except for our murmured, rambling conversation about nothing of importance. Nothing I’d get, not after one night. Maybe not after many nights.
Being lonely was like being in your own personal hell.
I winced as he withdrew, the cool air rushing over my superheated flesh welcome as he got up to deal with the condom. When he came back, he lay next to me, groping around until he found my hand. He brought it to his lips, the sweetness of the gesture causing a hitch in my breathing. “So is that what it takes to make you come? Dinner first?” he asked.
I twisted my head to the side, saw the grin. “What?”
He rolled and propped his head up on his hand. “Took a blow that night, ya know. Knowing I got off and you didn’t.”
Oh, you— I scowled. “If I was after an orgasm, I could have just gone home that night and had a hot date with my hand.” Which I had, after I’d left him.
His gaze heated. “I’d like to see that sometime. Watch you.”
I’d watch him. Fisting his cock, the head slick with pre-come, breathing shallow as his face twisted in a rictus of pleasure.
The sheets were bunched under me, and I shifted, trying to smooth them out. It didn’t work. I sat up and glanced down. “Okay if I shower?”
His teeth flashed in another grin. “Only if I can join you.”
My blood heated as my heart thudded to a stop. He was after my body. Mutual pleasure. It had to be part of who he was, those absent, sweet gestures. The gestures that, at the end of it all, meant nothing more than he was a nice guy.
I worked up a smile for him and headed into the bathroom. The tap flipped on with a creak of pipes, and I waited for the water to hit lukewarm before stepping under
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