Chapter 24 Luca #2
I’m dying to fuck her, but I can’t go in till I get her there.
I keep at it with my mouth and fingers, feeling blissed out by the taste of her and the guttural sounds she’s making.
Until finally, Chelsea arches her back, grips the hell out of my hair, and releases an orgasm that ripples against my mouth and fingers as it shoots her into the stratosphere.
I look up her writhing torso, eager to witness Chelsea’s orgasm face—and the glorious sight exceeds my wildest fantasies. She looks drunk on pleasure and lust. Torpedoed into another dimension.
Groaning with excitement and anticipation, I quickly grab the condom from Chelsea’s pocket on the floor, get my aching, dripping, greedy cock wrapped up in latex, and hurl myself back onto the bed, which causes Chelsea to laugh as the mattress bounces underneath my weight.
My breathing is ragged now. The moment I’ve waited to experience for so long is finally here. Slowly, carefully, I crawl on top of her, rest my forearms on either side of her head, and stare into her big blue eyes.
“Chelsea,” I whisper, barely able to comprehend this is finally happening.
“My mathlete.” When she returns my smile, I kiss her lips tenderly, and then her forehead, before slowly sinking my covered length deep, deep, deep inside the one and only Chelsea Parker, the brilliant, gorgeous, funny, one-of-a-kind woman I’ve been fantasizing about fucking for seven long years.
Christ almighty. She feels even better than I could have imagined. So good, as my body fills hers, I can’t help blurting, “You feel like heaven.”
When I’m all the way in, Chelsea grips my back like she’s trying to pull me into her even deeper, which really isn’t possible, but I’m not complaining. And as I begin thrusting, we both groan at the delectable sensations slamming into us.
As my thrusting continues and gains momentum, Chelsea grabs my ass and goads me on, so I start fucking her even harder, with more and more zeal—until soon, we’re going at it so hard, our flesh is slapping and my balls are hitting her with every furious stroke.
In fact, I’m fucking my mathlete so damned hard at this point, trying to give her what she’s begging me for, I’m in danger of fucking her right off the bed.
We’re in the zone now. Setting fire to the bedsheets with our grunting, energetic rhythm, loud groans, and dirty talk.
There’s no room to wonder if she’s feeling what I am.
She’s making it damned clear with every “Yes!” she shrieks and every moan that lurches out of her.
There’s no shyness here. No boundaries or inhibitions.
She’s surrendering her body to me completely, and I’m doing the same for her, and the result is an explosion of chemistry and extreme sexual excitement like nothing I’ve experienced before.
I’ve fucked before, God knows. But it turns out fucking Chelsea Parker is something new.
It doesn’t feel like a whole new level to the sport; it feels like a new sport altogether.
I’m thrusting like a veritable madman now, while kissing her voraciously and whispering hoarsely how good she feels, how much she turns me on, and she’s running her hands feverishly over the planes and grooves of my back, shoulders, and arms while begging me not to stop. “Don’t ever stop, Luca.”
All of a sudden, she groans from the depths of her soul, throws back her head, arches her spine underneath me like a cat, and comes so hard, the rippling motion of her innermost muscles squeezing my dick inside her hurtle me into another dimension—one where I can’t help experiencing the best, most blindingly pleasurable orgasm of my life.
As I surrender to the drug that is sex with Chelsea Parker, stars blur my vision and my heart feels like it’s physically exploding.
Growling, I cup her stunning face with my palm and kiss her passionately, while she wraps her arms and legs around me like she’s a monkey hanging onto a tree branch during a hurricane.
When my body is spent, my kisses slow down with my heart rate.
But I’m not finished with her yet. Not nearly.
With our sweaty bodies still entangled, we kiss and kiss, reveling in what was, at least for me, the most intense, addicting, brain-altering sex of my life.
From this day forward, my life will now be divided into two parts: the time before I got to fuck the incomparable Chelsea Parker and the time after.
After a while, Chelsea pulls out of our kiss and whispers, “I should get going.”
“No, please. Not yet. Give me thirty minutes, and we’ll go again.”
She pats my back. “You need to get some good sleep.”
“There’s no practice tomorrow, Coach.”
“Yeah, but you shouldn’t mess up your sleep cycle.”
“Will you stop being a coach for once? I can sleep on the plane.” I kiss her temple. “Stay with me tonight. Once wasn’t enough. I’m not even close to finished with you yet.”
Chelsea walks her fingertips up my arm that’s still wrapped tight around her. “What happened to you studying film during the flight?”
“My priorities have changed.”
She laughs. “Imagine that.”
I stroke her cheek. “Please don’t go. We’re going to the airport together in the morning, anyway, so—”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are. Chelsea, you conceded I’m the winner of our bet.”
“Yes, and the agreed-upon prize was me ‘coming to the party’ with you as your plus-one, not flying on a jet supplied by your brother who shan’t be named to said party.”
“Chelsea.”
“I’ll fly commercial and see you there.”