Chapter 9 #2
Me standing at the door in lounge shorts and a cropped spaghetti-strap tank, nipples hard, sweat building now that I was away from the AC. Calvin behind me, tall and fine and shirtless and that tattooed copper skin contrasting against my smooth, darker tone.
I literally watched the vein pop up on his head.
This is lovely, really.
“Yeah,” Hunter scoffed. “Everything is good.”
“Cool,” Calvin said, giving me a quick tap on the ass before he walked off.
I… man, okay.
“Seriously, Amelia?” Hunter chuckled – in a dry, aint-shit-funny kinda way. “So you really are fucking him? I should’ve known.”
My eyes narrowed. “You have the nerve to comment on that wearing a hoe-fit on your way to spend the night with somebody?”
“A hoe fit?”
“That’s what I said!” I hissed. “But you know – it’s none of my business, just like he is none of yours. Do not call, do not text, do not drop by. We don’t need to do… whatever this is.”
“Well excuse the fuck outta me for still giving a damn about you.”
“You’re excused!” I quipped, then stepped back to fling the door shut.
Wait a minute.
“I should’ve known.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!
My hand went to the door to snatch it back open, ready to ask some pertinent questions. But then something shifted behind me, and I turned to see Calvin standing there.
Fine ass, big dick Calvin.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Never better.”
I had the distance between us closed in two seconds flat – no thoughts, just… impulse.
So much impulse, lately.
But whatever.
Fuck it.
I planted hands on his shoulders and he immediately caught the vibe, sweeping me up to hook legs around his waist. I grabbed his face and took aim – my mouth on his, and not for a little peck.
His hands were on my ass, keeping me balanced as he walked me backward before my brain had even fully registered what I was doing.
In the kitchen, he hiked me up on the counter, stepping between my legs to take over the kiss.
I groaned as his mouth dropped to my throat, licking, sucking, nibbling, making my toes curl before he made his way back up.
“We need protection,” I muttered against his lips, and he nodded.
Went into his pocket without breaking the kiss.
I broke the kiss, hands on his chest to push him back so I could look him in the face.
“You brought condoms with you?”
He squinted. “Uh… yes?”
“So you were planning to fuck me?”
“I… I mean… like just in case, you know? Trying to be responsible and prepared,” he stammered.
“Oh, okay – did you bring your cell phone?”
“… no.”
“Your wallet?”
“… no.”
“That’s not very responsible or prepared of you.”
Calvin sucked his teeth. “Amelia… do you want to fuss, or do you want to fuck?”
“Both, actually,” I told him, grabbing his waistband to pull him back between my legs.
He grinned over that answer, and then promptly occupied my mouth with his tongue so I couldn’t fuss. A slow, deep kiss, with his hand between my legs, his thumb tracing my clit through my shorts.
With the low hum of that little air-conditioner trying it’s best, and the flickering candlelight, it felt quite… intimate.
Not at all like I barely knew this man.
Not at all like this was the first time in years I’d been touched by someone who wasn’t Hunter.
Not at all like I was just being reactionary, yet again.
It just felt… good.
Amazing, actually, to have Calvin’s hand pushing those little shorts aside to sink fingers into me while his tongue was in my mouth.
That little sound he made, that satisfied grunt over how wet I was, how warm?
That was pretty damn good too, but nothing compared to his “goddamn” in my ear once that condom was on, our clothes were off, and he was finally buried inside me.
That really did something for me, something really fucking good, and so did every deep, firm stroke that followed.
Because of his height, I was barely on the counter – more like it was a backup surface in case my arms got tired of hanging on for dear life while he stroked.
Tongue on my neck.
Fingers on my clit.
Every stroke of every thing, as a whole and individually… blissful.
Truly.
At some point, I started begging – for what, I didn’t even know, there was just sound pouring out of my mouth until he brought his lips to mine, kissing me between reassurances of, “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
He… knew?
What the fuck did he know?
That I needed this?
That this might be the best I’d ever been fucked?
That I was right on the verge of coming unglued beneath him?
How did he know?
My nails dug a little harder into his skin with every roll of his hips, thighs gripped tighter on every push, trying to pull him deeper.
He chuckled against my lips. “I’m trying not to hurt you,” he grunted.
“I think you’re being stingy,” I challenged.
He stopped moving.
Smirked.
Unhooked my legs from his waist to prop on his shoulders instead.
And then touched my back… from inside of me.
At least, that’s what it felt like at first, so painfully deep for that half-second that I wanted to push him off me.
“Breathe,” he demanded, with his hands caressing my thighs as he pulled back. “I’ve got you.”
With my fingers latched onto his arms, I did as I was told.
I breathed.
I relaxed.
When he sank into me again, it was just as deep, but my body was more accepting, honing into the contact from every nerve ending.
The pull backward felt like a loss, making me clench around him to urge him not to go too far away.
The re-entry was… shit… tear-inducing in pleasure, his dick coaxing me right back to the threshold of that coveted sweet spot.
And then shoving me through the door, growling praises about my pussy right in my ear while he fell through it with me.
For a moment, we just stayed stuck like that, heavy-breathing in each other’s ear.
After a moment he let my legs down, but didn’t pull out.
The AC was still humming.
Candles still flickering.
Microwave beeping, trying to alert someone to set the time.
Oh.
Oh!
“Don’t act shamed now,” Calvin chuckled, finally stepping back.
There were little signs all around us – including the central air kicking on – that the power had been restored, but luckily the lights out here had been turned off, helping avoid that particular awkwardness.
Not the rest, though.
I was suddenly hyper-aware of exactly how naked – completely – sweaty – very – and indecent – utterly -- we were. Him with the used condom, me with my legs wide open, sitting in a puddle of my own arousal.
I at least closed my legs.
Hopped down.
Looked around for the disinfectant wipes as a quick solution for now.
“Ay – you’re giving off strong regret vibes, so… I’ma get outta here before you start cussing,” Calvin said, as he pulled that condom off in my damn kitchen.
My eye twitched as I nodded. “Yeah… probably a good idea.”
I was too busy finding my discarded clothes to watch him deliver that condom to the bathroom and locate his shorts.
Did I hate how I was acting right now?
Yes?
Could I help it?
Painfully, no.
I wanted nothing more than to allow myself to bask in the fact that I’d just had my insides so pleasantly rearranged, and yet…
Did you really just fuck him because you were mad at Hunter? Girl… was just too prevalent on my mind, now that his dick wasn’t in me.
When he stopped at the door to say something to me, I just held up a hand and shook my head.
He smirked, but left it alone.
Left.
I let out the heaviest of heavy sighs as I leaned into the door once I’d locked it behind him.
Aaaand once again, we were right back to fuck my life.