Chapter 16 #4
I reach over to the end of the bed and grab a condom out of the inside pocket of my jacket, then kneeling over her, I sweep her and her pillows up to the head of the bed.
She still hasn’t stopped stroking me, that tight fist sliding up and down my shaft.
“If you don’t stop that,” I tell her, “there isn’t going to be any sex.
This is going to be quick as it is; I’ve been hard since you walked out of that bathroom like seven hours ago. ”
“Sounds painful,” she says, giving me a squeeze that has my eyes rolling back in my head, my eyelids closing, and my hips slamming forward into her fist.
I cover her hand with mine. “You can keep doing that, but if you do, I’m going to come all over you.”
She quirks her lip up, not at all turned off by my filthy mouth, and says, “Let’s save that for the shower.” I like this unexpected side of her.
“Let’s,” I say as I roll the condom on. “But first, I want to feel you from the inside.”
Her legs fall open for me, and I take a moment to enjoy the view before I reach down and cup her breasts. They really are perfect—a work of fucking art.
“Beau,” she says, warning and pleading evident in her raspy voice as I drag my thumbs across her nipples. “Inside me, now.”
I lean in, planting my elbow next to her, and capture those sweet lips in mine.
I’m so lost in the way her lips feel on mine, at the way her tongue feels slanting against mine, at the little sounds of pleasure she’s making, that I almost forget what I’m doing until she wraps her ankles around my ass, thrusting her hips off the bed to run herself along the length of my dick.
She pulls away from the kiss long enough to pant, “Empty. Without. You.”
Three words. Three separate sentences. A perfect description of my life.
I’m empty without her.
I pull my hips back and line myself up with her opening as I stare down at her, our faces so close we’re sharing one breath.
Slowly, I slide into her, my eyes never leaving hers.
She’s so tight, and wet, and perfect. We fit together like we were meant to be.
I want to remember this feeling—the first time I’m sliding into her—forever.
Once I’m fully sheathed inside her, she whispers, “So much better.”
Better doesn’t even begin to describe this. It’s perfection. I bring my lips back to hers as I begin to move inside her, capturing all her moans and sexy little sounds, trying to memorize every single moment of this because it’s a million times better than any of my fantasies led me to believe.
I bring one knee up under her thigh to change the angle, needing to be deeper, closer to her. My body is on fire, humming with the electric desire to give her everything I have, to take everything she’ll offer, to make this perfect thing between us a real, living experience.
She pulls away from me and sighs out a “Yes” at the change in position, then puts her hands on my chest and gently pushes me away from her. My body screams no, even as she locks eyes with me and says, “I want to see you.”
I push myself up with one of my arms, so I’m staring down at her as I slide out and then push back in.
The way I can now watch as her eyes roll back in her head and she sighs out another “Yes” makes it worth the physical distance.
I will never forget this feeling—the way her inner walls are stroking me, the hungry look in her eyes, the need and satisfaction on her face.
It’s too much, and I’m too close. I can tell she’s building to something, but she’s not as close as I am and there’s no way I’m getting off without giving her another orgasm first. “I need you to touch yourself,” I tell her.
She brings her middle finger to my mouth, and I circle the pad of her finger with my tongue before she slides her hand between us.
As she runs her finger over her clit, I can feel the difference—she brings her other knee up and wraps her foot around my ass, thrusting her hips up to meet mine.
She’s bucking wildly beneath me when she pants “So close.”
I can feel her inner walls contract around me, squeezing me impossibly tighter.
I’m barely holding on when she moans, and her mouth falls open.
She squeezes her eyes shut, her face contorted into a mask of exquisite torture.
Then she opens her eyes and locks them on mine.
“Beau . . .” My name on her lips is half chant, half scream, and it unravels the last threads of my self-control.
I lean down, my lips covering hers, my mouth absorbing the sounds of her orgasm as it tears through her and milks everything I have out of me.
Over and over, the feel of her tightening around me from the inside has me pouring everything I have into her: every ounce of my orgasm, yes, but also every ounce of my self-control, my dignity, my heart.
I’ve never felt anything like this, ever.
I still inside her, then lift my face from hers, tracing her nose with my own.
“Holy shit,” she pants. “That wasn’t an orgasm, that was a religious experience.”
A smile plays at my lips, but she’s too close to see it. “My thoughts exactly,” I tell her.
It felt a lot like my chest cracking open and my heart jumping out. I want to ask her if she felt it too, but I’m distracted by the way she’s stroking my face with her fingertips and asking, “How soon can we do that again?”