Chapter 13
Erotic is an understatement. That orgasm was intense, needed, and different in a very good way.
Random hookups are never this hot, usually sloppy and selfish.
Tonight, it’s like we’ve done this before.
The way this man looks at me, touches me, commands me, sees right through my bullshit …
I’m surprised in the best way. I know this is just for tonight, but my post-orgasm euphoria has me thinking we should do this again—or maybe never stop.
Reverence. It’s a word I haven’t used in a while, but tonight … Tonight, it’s not literally correct, but the way he touches me feels like it. He isn’t mechanical. He’s truly exploring, discovering, learning.
“I need you to squirt,” he says, looking at me from between my legs.
“Need?”
Does he seriously want me to squirt? I think, watching him between my legs.
“Give in, baby girl.”
Baby girl. It’s a fucked nickname out of context, but it does something to me every time he says it.
I relax into the couch, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling.
Closing my eyes, I enjoy the pleasure. I’ve only squirted once before, and who’s to say I didn’t pee the bed?
The guy was pressing so hard on my stomach, it just came out.
This pressure, it’s better. There are so many sensations, from his tongue to his fingers to his hand on my stomach.
I rock my hips, needing to move toward the orgasm beginning to crest.
I huff into a light laugh, thinking about how this stranger is demanding I ruin his furniture.
I want to do it, make a mess all over, let him figure out how to clean it.
My body involuntarily squirms even closer into his face, needing more.
I feel his finger slide into my other hole as his hand presses down the slightest amount more.
Fuck, I am going to pee—or at least that’s what it feels like. I tense but then giggle. He doesn’t want me to hold back. I unclench, and my orgasm hits me hard. Moaning loud, I shake before splaying out over the couch, limp, feeling wetness on my back.
He grumbles, and the sound is deep, maybe a satisfied grunt. His hands run down my sides as his lips kiss my thighs before moving to my stomach. He growls, staring into my eyes, shifting to hover above me. He’s not saying anything, but the way he’s looking at me conveys just how much he liked that.
He leans back and sits on the couch, his legs spread wide. He looks like he’s reminiscing before he pats his thigh. I crawl into his lap, and he holds me tight.
“I didn’t think you would let go,” he says softly. “I’m always pegging you wrong.”
I raise my brow and giggle as he surveys the couch.
“Dirty girl … look at the mess you made.”
“You could clean it easily enough.”
“I’ll get myself a new couch for Christmas.” He sweeps my hair behind my shoulders and pulls me into another hug. “When they come to take this one away, I’m telling them what happened,” he says directly into my ear.
I giggle and swat his chest.
He grabs my chin and holds the most intense eye contact with me I think I’ve ever had. “You need to hydrate.” He holds my thighs around him, standing and carrying me toward the kitchen.