25. Lennox #2
I scrambled for it, holding it with shaky hands. I knew if we ever did end up watching this again, it would probably give us motion sickness, but I didn’t give a shit. Not as the light highlighted my wetness on his dick, and he gave it one long stroke before lining us back up.
With thinly veiled restraint, he took his time pushing back inside. Watching it through a small screen while knowing it was happening to me was a wild, out-of-body experience. And knowing we’d both been so close, and yet he was putting on this show for my benefit, was so goddamn hot.
“Did I say you could come yet?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my clit.
My response came out in a whimper because how was I supposed to control something like that when he continuously hit all the right spots. If I came, it was his fault.
But I knew this was part of the game, so I played along. “No, daddy.”
Bishop gritted his teeth, the muscles in his neck and arms bulging as he forced himself to go slow.
He let out a frustrated growl before knocking the phone from my hand and leaning over to kiss me.
I greedily savored every forceful flick of his tongue against my own, wanting to live in this moment forever.
“You’re lucky I can’t hold out anymore,” he panted. “You just feel too good, sweetheart. Too fucking good. Goddamn, I could live here forever. Could end the day with my cock lodged inside this tight little cunt, and start the morning with your pathetic little whimpers as I fuck you awake.”
Holy shit.
I blinked up at him as he pulled away, increasing the speed and pressure of his thrusts.
Each one sent me higher, preparing my body to sail right off the edge without care or caution.
I reached between our bodies, letting my fingers graze the top of my pussy.
It wouldn’t take much, but I wanted to hold out as long as possible because it felt so good .
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed. “I need you to come, killer. I need?—”
I applied pressure to my clit, working it in quick strokes. It didn’t take long before my back arched, and ecstasy coursed through my body from head to toe. “Bishop!”
The thunder rolled, and lightning crashed as our orgasms peaked at the same time. I could feel his cock twitch inside of me, filling me just like he’d promised. Wetness seeped between us as he slowed his thrusts, burying his face in my neck as he cried out my name.
“Lennox, Lennox, Lennox…” My name had never sounded so reverential before. Like I was the most precious thing in the world.
The weight of his body on mine was comforting. He ran his hands up my arms, intertwining our fingers as I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him in. Neither of us wanted to move, content to lie in the aftermath of what we’d just done.
I didn’t know how long we lay like that, tangled in one another’s embrace. It wasn’t until the sweat on our skin began to dry, and I let out a little shiver, that he shifted his body to stare down at me. He leaned in for a kiss, which I eagerly returned.
“So beautiful,” he murmured.
“You can’t even see me properly,” I pointed out. The light from the living room barely illuminated the space, and other than a random lightning strike here and there, it was mercifully dark.
“Don’t need to see you,” he said, pressing his lips against mine. “I just know.”
I didn’t know why that made my chest swell, but it did.
Most of my confidence was just false bravado.
Growing up as the baby to two older sisters meant I learned how to fake it until I made it pretty early on in life.
It started as a way to stand out and get attention, but it turned into a coping mechanism as I got older .
“Most people only see me as a good time,” I murmured, breaking the silence. “And a lot of that is my own doing, but it doesn’t ever lessen the pain I felt, you know? Like, I was good enough to fuck, but not bring home to your momma.”
Bishop let out a sound of annoyance. “I don’t wanna talk about you fucking other guys when my cum is still dripping out of your pussy.”
I barked a laugh. “My point is that you always treated me with respect—even when annoyed. Even when we were at odds, volleying insults toward one another like we were playing table tennis.” I turned toward him, feeling the weight of his gaze.
“I think that’s why I always had a crush on you.
It was like I could be every version of myself and know it wouldn’t change how you saw me. ”
Rough, calloused hands ran along my arm. “You had a crush on me?”
“Mmhm,” I said, shifting in his arms. “For a long time, honestly. It’s kinda embarrassing.”
“We need to have a discussion about your horrible taste in men,” he grumbled, but I didn’t miss the way it sounded like he was smiling.
“I’m not worried about it,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Why’s that?” he asked softly, running his fingers along my skin.
I burrowed myself deeper in his embrace, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat before whispering, “Because you’re the only one I want,” as I let sleep pull me under.