Chapter 30
Morgan
Rory pulses above me, crying out and grinding against my face.
I’m in heaven.
I could tell Rory was worried about putting too much of her weight on me, but toward the end, she was pressing against me, mindlessly seeking her own pleasure, and it was hot as fuck.
Plus, I could watch her. Her eyes were closed, so maybe she didn’t realize I was paying attention, but her grip on the headboard, the way her lips fell open and she gritted her teeth, and the bouncing of her breasts above me was the best fucking view I’ve ever seen in my life.
There’s nothing sexier than seeing Rory Fox lost in pleasure.
I keep working my mouth on her as long as she lets me.
She shudders and clenches and I keep sucking until she gasps and her eyes fly open.
Her hand in my hair pushes my forehead away and her hips pull back, falling away and to the side.
Rory collapses on the mattress, head down toward the foot of the bed, and I’m drawn back to my own body, my own needs.
My cock aches and throbs and the full taste of Rory lingers in my mouth and her scent is all I can smell.
We lie there for a moment, both of us panting. I get up first, propping myself up on my elbows. Rory’s curled on her side, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly parted.
I lean to my left side and place my free hand on her hip. Her eyelids flutter open and she glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
“That’s a good throne.”
I chuckle. “You did a really good job sitting on it.” I run my hand up as far as I can reach, over her ribs and up to the small mound of her breast and give it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes close again.
“Give me another minute.”
My hand stills on its path back down her body and I frown. The unspoken words are “and then it’s your turn,” and that won’t do. Good sex is not a tit for tat, not an obligation. I got mine so now you get yours.
I scoot closer, pressing my stomach against her back. If she was facing the other way, my dick would be right in her face, but it’s not.
I lift my head and wedge my left hand between Rory’s thighs from behind to give myself some space. Her body’s limp and pliable still, making it easy for me to slide my right hand over her belly and find her clit again.
She jerks. “What are you—?”
I stop. “Too sensitive?”
“A little.”
“Want me to stop?”
There’s a pause, and then she relaxes back down. “No.”
I press against her, the pad of my fingers trapping her clit while I circle against her. With my mouth free, I press kisses on her hip and the outside of her thigh. As she starts to squirm, I rest my cheek on her and watch.
It’s more subtle this time; a bitten lip, her fist gripping the comforter, and then the press of her hips forward, dislodging my headrest while she comes against my hand.
Okay, I can’t take it anymore. I roll to my back, away from Rory, and take my cock in my hand, pumping an embarrassingly few times (not that she’s going to notice) before I get my own release, spilling on my chest.
We lie there, both of us quiet and catching our breath. I should be exhausted—I was up late and it’s still early for me—but I’m wired. I want to do that all over again now, and then every day for as long as Rory will let me.
But Rory might be asleep next to me. She’s gone still and her breathing is even. I sit up, looking down at her, and contemplate sneaking out of bed. As if in agreement, my stomach rumbles, and Rory’s eyelids flutter open.
I bend down and kiss the closest skin—the side of her knee. “I’ll make breakfast.”