Lillah #2
He yanked my skirt up around my waist and pulled my panties to the side. His fingers found me first—two of them sliding through the slick heat between my legs, and I gasped, gripping his shoulders. He stroked my clit in slow, deliberate circles until my hips bucked against his hand.
"Fuck, you're wet." His voice was barely above a growl.
I fumbled with his belt, got it open, and shoved his pants down far enough. His cock was thick and hard in my hand, and I heard the sharp breath he pulled when I wrapped my fingers around him.
He lifted me up, my back flat against the wall, my legs around his waist. One hand braced under my thigh, the other guiding himself to my entrance. He pushed into me in one hard thrust and my head fell back against the wall.
"Oh god—"
"Look at me." He demanded.
My eyes found his, and I watched his jaw clench as he pulled back and drove into me again. Hard. Deep. The wall shook behind me with every thrust, and I couldn't think, couldn't do anything except hold on and feel him fill me over and over.
He fucked me like he'd been thinking about it all night. His hips slammed into mine, one hand gripping my ass, the other braced against the wall above my shoulder. The sounds coming out of my mouth didn't even sound like me—broken, desperate little moans that got louder every time he bottomed out.
"That's it," he rasped. "Let me hear you."
I came with my face buried in his shoulder, my whole body clenching around his cock as the orgasm tore through me. My thighs shook, and I bit down on the fabric of his shirt to keep from screaming.
He held me there, still inside me, his forehead pressed against mine while I came down. His breathing was ragged, but he hadn't finished. He was still hard.
"Bedroom," I whispered.
He carried me up the stairs without pulling out, which should have been impossible, but he managed it, and the shift of him inside me with every step had me clenching around him again.
He laid me on the bed and pulled out slowly.
I felt the loss immediately. He kicked off his pants the rest of the way and pulled his shirt over his head, and I took a second to look at him—all of him.
His cock was still hard, slick with me, and the sight of it sent a pulse of heat straight through my core.
He came down over me, his body covering mine, his weight settling between my thighs. This time when he pushed inside me, it was slow. Inch by inch, until he was fully seated and I could feel him everywhere.
"Marshall—"
"I know." He kissed me, deep and unhurried, and started to move.
His hips rolled in a rhythm that was maddening—slow, deep strokes that dragged against every nerve ending I had.
I could feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of me, and my fingers dug into his back.
He watched my face while he moved, and the intimacy of it was almost too much to handle.
His eyes on mine, his body pressing me into the mattress, the wet sound of him moving inside me.
I hooked my leg around his hip, pulling him deeper, and the sound he made when I did—low and wrecked—sent heat pooling between my legs all over again.
"You feel so fucking good," he murmured against my mouth. "You know that?"
I couldn't answer. I was too far gone. My hips rose to meet his on every stroke, chasing the friction, and when he shifted his angle—hitting that spot deep inside me—I moaned loud enough that he did it again.
And again. His pace picked up, his breathing getting rougher, and I could feel the tension coiling tighter in my core with every thrust.
I came with his name on my lips, my back arching off the bed, my pussy clenching around him so hard he groaned through it with me.
He didn't stop. He kissed the side of my neck and rolled me over, pulling my hips up until I was on my knees in front of him. His hand ran down the length of my spine, and then he was inside me again, filling me from behind in one smooth thrust.
"Fuck—" My hands fisted in the sheets.
He set a punishing pace, one hand gripping my hip hard enough to leave marks, the other sliding around to find my clit.
His fingers worked me in tight circles while he fucked me from behind, and the dual sensation built so fast I didn't have time to brace for it.
I could hear him behind me—the rough sounds he made, the way he said my name like a prayer he was losing faith in.
"Come for me," he said, his voice strained, his rhythm faltering. "One more."
I shattered. My arms gave out and my face hit the pillow as the orgasm crashed through me, wave after wave, my entire body trembling.
He followed right behind me—I felt him swell and pulse inside me, his hips stuttering, his body pressing against my back as he came with my name breaking from his mouth.
Neither of us moved for a long time.
After, we lay in the dark, my head on his chest and our limbs tangled together. I lay there listening to his heart beat when he whispered my name.
"Lillah?"
"Hmmm?"
"Go out with me, on a real date."
I lifted my head and looked at him. The look in his eyes said he was serious. He brought his hand to my cheek, brushing away a couple of strands of hair while waiting for me to answer him.
"Okay. An actual date." I said.
I rested my head against his chest again and felt him kiss my forehead, and I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat while Cooper lay in his bed snoring away.
I was in trouble; that much I knew. The kind of trouble I wasn't sure I'd survive if things went wrong between us, which is what scared me. It had only been a short time together, and already something was telling me I wouldn't be able to survive walking away from him if I needed to.