Chapter Eleven #3
I hold my rhythm: fingers deep, thumb firm, curling with lethal precision. She meets every thrust, her hips rising, her sweet heat swallowing my strokes over and over. She sucks my tongue between her lips, greedy and forceful, and I nearly lose it from the sound.
I don’t let up; my hand is soaked as I push deeper. I withdraw so my fingers can curl at her opening, stroking firmly against the sensitive walls.
“Cole,” she cries out, her fingers furiously gripping my hair. “I’m… yes. Yes!”
She unravels, her pussy pulsing around my fingers, wringing a shattered moan from her tongue. I ease back, letting her chase the aftershocks, because fuck, she’s stunning when she lets go.
“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering open. “Get inside me, now!”
I’m up, scrambling for my bag, dumping everything out.
Condom? Where the hell is it?!
“If you were organized,” she drawls, still catching her breath, “you wouldn’t be—”
“Ivy,” I cut her off, tossing a stray sock aside. “Fold my shit later. Label it. Burn it. I don’t care, just help me find a condom.”
Rolling to her side, she flips open her suitcase with an air of superiority. “Front pocket.”
She yanks out a box. Not a condom. A whole box.
My cock jerks. My jealousy flickers. Then, with one smug, come-hither smirk, my ego soars.
I rip the foil open with my teeth, roll it down, and I’m on her in a flash. I catch both her wrists and lace our fingers tight.
“What’s your fantasy, Hartwell? How do you want me?”
Those perfect words will echo in my skull until the day I die.
My dick has waited its whole life to answer.
“Ride me like a fucking Bronco.”
I give her no time to debate. I haul her up and lie flat on my back. I reach for a pillow and shove it under my ass.
She raises an eyebrow. “And that’s for… what, exactly?”
“All for you, Stopwatch. Trust. I want you to take all of me, deep. You set the pace. My cock exists for one reason. To make you come again.”
She laughs, sharp and disbelieving, as her hips move into a lethal position. “God, Hartwell, do you hear yourself? Big talk for a dick that’s about to blow.”
“You’ll see.”
She eases herself over me, teasing, torturing, and starts to sink. So fucking slow I can feel my pulse in my teeth. She glides me in.
Jesus. Tight as a goddamn noose. My eyes snap shut, and my hips give a traitorous little twitch.
Shit. She might be right. I might not make it.
Ivy gives me a loud, guttural groan and pulls herself up, only to slide back down again, burying me to the base.
“Oh God,” she moans, head falling back. “You’re like steel. Huge. I can’t—fuck, you feel sooooo fucking good.”
I groan. “For fuck’s sake, Ivy. If you say one more thing like that, I won’t last ten seconds. Are you trying to make me blow?”
She squeezes every inch of me as she moves, mastering the rhythm.
This cowgirl knows how to ride.
But damn, I need more time. I don’t want this to end. I try to think about anything else.
Sea lions.
Where did I last leave off? Oh yeah, Larry was—
She rocks back against my length, and her nails scrape into my chest.
“Ivy!” I rasp, voice ragged, “your pussy’s too good. I’m gonna lose it. Slow down—fuck, I can’t hold on—”
“This is my ride now. Try to keep up.” She grins, breathless.
And then the vixen quickens the pace.
“Christ, woman! Fine. Take it all. Just don’t stop.”
Her hips are pure sin, rolling rhythmically, walls massaging me tightly, giving me sensation after blissful sensation. With every slick slide, my base nuzzles against her hypersensitive center, and just when I think I’ve hit my limit, she bends forward and gasps uncontrollably against my neck.
“O-oh my God!” she cries into the kiss. “Oh f-fuck. Is this—is this my G-spot? I’ve never—n-never—shit, yes, right there—”
I’ll thank the pillow later.
Something in her snaps. Her rhythm turns frantic, desperate. Her nipples rake against my chest, and her breath is a feverish litany of my name, yes, more, over and over. She’s a single touch away from coming apart.
I’m panting, overwhelmed. Ripples of pleasure take over. “That’s it,” I groan, hands gripping her ass tighter. “Fuuuuck… yeah, baby. Take it. Take all of me.”
The pressure in my gut is building to the point of actual pain.
And then she comes hard, her body clenching, shuddering, a shocked cry spilling from her lips, surprised by the force.
I don’t last another second.
Her orgasm rips mine from me, my hips jerking, my cock pulsing, emptying into her as her pleasure overtakes me.
She collapses, limbs liquid, her cheek pressing to my ribs with a wrecked sound—skin slick, our hearts a frantic staccato against each other. My arms band around her, pulling her so close there’s no space.
We’re both sucking in air, blissfully aware of each other. Our breathing. Our bodies heaving together.
But for whatever fucking reason, my mind won’t let me savor it. Because now there’s this new truth, a goddamn grenade pin has been pulled in this bed.
Tomorrow is our last event. A final showdown to prove who’s worthy of that promotion. I still want it. That didn’t change because we burned the fucking sheets to ashes.
I press my face into her damp hair, my chest so tight it’s more heart attack than post-coital bliss.
I showed up this weekend, determined to outplay her.
Yeah. That’s not going how I planned.
She’s in my head. Under my skin. A fucking addiction I didn’t see coming and sure as hell can’t shake after tonight.
I’m hooked. And in this competition, that’s a death sentence.
What the hell do I do? The woman I just gave everything to is the woman I have to hurt to win.