Chapter Sixty-Eight #2
My hands slid away from her breasts, moving back down her belly.
Then going between her thighs, teasing up her cleft, teasing around the outside of her clit, but refusing to make direct contact.
I loved the way she squirmed, writhed, the way her breath caught then exhaled in short little bursts, like her body was forgetting how it worked, was too lost in the sensations to figure it out again.
“You’re so sensitive,” I said as my fingers traced that soft spot where the thigh met the side of her sex.
My hands moved inward at the same time, pressing her lips closed, then rubbing along the cleft, creating a friction without any direct contact.
“Brock, please,” she whimpered a few moments later, too far gone to care about begging, about being so damn desperate for me.
Then and only then did my one hand find her clit as my other hand moved down and pressed two fingers inside her tight, wet, pussy, feeling the way her walls clenched around them, knowing they would do the same to my cock when I got inside of her again.
But not yet.
I wanted to drag this out.
I wanted to drive her to that edge over and over but deny her the release each time, until she was begging, until she was damn near crying for release.
Then I was going to slide inside her, feel her close around me, inviting me in deep.
I underestimated her, though.
I figured she would stay passive, would allow me to keep giving her the sweet torment without the blissful relief.
This was Miranda Coulter, though.
A woman at the top of a man’s world.
The most self-assured woman I’d ever met.
When she wanted something, she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for her.
She straightened suddenly, pulling away, then turning around to face me.
Her hands reached for me, and I was too thrown off to know what was going on, so I just went with it as she pulled me upward onto my knees.
The water teased over my hips.
But my cock was straining upward out of the water.
And then Miranda was reaching out for it, wrapping her hand around my shaft, then leaning down to suck me into her mouth.
I swear I fucking saw white for a moment.
She didn’t tease.
She didn’t ease her way into it.
She just started to fuck me with her mouth.
Fast, deep, her head twisting as she sucked up and down my cock.
“Fuck, baby,” I growled, gathering her hair to hold it back so I could watch her as she worked me. “You’re so fucking good at that,” I murmured as her hand shifted down, palming my balls as she continued to suck me off.
I’d never wanted to come down someone’s throat as badly as I wanted to come down hers right then.
Someday, I promised myself, I would.
Let her work me as I sat selfishly back, having her take me to that brink, then pulling her tightly against me, so when my release moved through me, it slid right down the back of her throat.
But that was not tonight.
Tonight, I needed to feel her hot, tight walls closing around me again.
With her hair wrapped around my palm, I yanked hard, feeling my cock slip out of her mouth with a small pop.
Pulling, I turned her, bending her over the back of the tub as my free hand fished for the wallet I’d placed next to the tub, finding the condom there.
I released her hair to slide on the protection, then sank my fingers into her hips instead, slipping down for a second to massage her plump ass, before slamming deep inside her, both of us gasping at the sensation.
“Feel how fucking perfect you are for me,” I hissed as I fucked her. Hard. Fast. The sounds of our sex echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom. That sound was quickly drowned out, though, by her throaty moans as I drove her higher and higher.
My hand slid between her thighs, working her clit as I fucked her harder still.
Her hips slammed back against me with each move, taking me to the hilt, helping drive herself right to that edge.
“Fuck. Are you going to come for me?” I hissed as her walls tightened.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Let me feel you let go,” I said. “Yes,” I groaned as the orgasm started, her walls tightening over and over. “Squeeze my cock, baby. That feels so fucking good,” I hissed, fucking her through it, then slamming deep and cursing out my release.
I can’t say for sure, but I swear to fuck I was pretty sure I actually blacked out from the intensity for a moment.
Nothing had ever felt like fucking her felt.
All consuming.
Overwhelming.
And somehow… new.
Sex, I figured, was just sex.
Sometimes great, almost always good.
But this was different.
Deeper.
Laced with feeling, and therefore, meaning.
“Uh oh,” Miranda said, sounding like she was just barely holding back a laugh.
“What?” I asked, shaking the lingering thoughts loose.
“We made a mess,” she said, straightening so her back was to my chest, and gesturing around the bathroom.
Apparently, we’d fucked a little harder than I’d realized.
In fact, we’d fucked half of the damn water out of the tub.
She finally let the laugh loose as she shook her head.
“Well, at least it was worth the hassle of cleaning that up,” she told me, turning her head a bit so she could lean up, a silent invitation to press a kiss to her lips.
And I damn sure wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to do that.
Afterward, I shooed her to bed, and I handled the mess, hanging up the sopping towels in the shower so they could hopefully dry. If not, I could run them to the laundry room before I got my day started.
“You sleeping?” I asked as I moved into her room, finding the TV already on, as it always was when she slept, and her curled up under the blankets.
“Not yet,” she said, voice soft, making it clear she was close to that.
“Want some company?” I asked, still not sure where things stood with us. Were we just fucking? Was she open to something other than that?
She didn’t respond to that, just pulled up the blankets as a silent invitation in.
I wasted no time climbing in, sliding an arm under her, and pulling her up onto my chest. She was initially tense for a moment before she melted into me.
“So, what’s tomorrow’s schedule?” I asked, sifting my hand through her hair, the silky strands sliding easily.
“I have a lunch with Cam and his boyfriend,” she said. “I mean, if you want to—“
“It’s okay. Enjoy your time with your friends. I am going to track down the doorman’s daughter and talk to her.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. We can do dinner, yeah?” I asked.
“That’s true. But I think I’ve had enough going out,” she said.
“Ordering in, then. Eating in bed. Possibly naked.”
“That sounds like a mess waiting to happen.”
“Don’t worry, if you spill anything on you, I will lick it off,” I promised, getting a little, girlish giggle out of her.
It wasn’t the first night I’d spent with a woman.
But it was damn sure the happiest one.