Chapter 21 Hutch #2
Her words hit like a damn match to gasoline. I pull back, making her whine, holding her eyes as I roll my hips slow and hard against her.
“Mmm, don’t stop,” she whimpers, desperate and low against my mouth.
Not a fucking chance. I grind my cock against her cunt. I know it’s dripping inside those flimsy leggings. I kiss her until she’s breathless and her lips are swollen and red. She bucks her hips again, so I release her hands and put a little space between our hips.
“Take my cock out,” I pant against her, and her hands immediately drop to work open my belt and jeans, fast but clumsy.
Once she’s got the zipper down, she reaches into my boxers and grips my length. Tight. Just this side of painful.
I groan against her mouth. “Fuck.” That’s good.
She twists her wrist, gathering pre cum at the tip of my cock and gives me a few slow, firm pumps, all the while keeping our tongues tangling, breath mingling, chests heaving with our mutual panting.
I hold myself above her with one hand and shove the other down the front of her leggings.
“Slutty little cunt is always so fucking wet for me,” I rasp out, nipping at her lips when I find her soaked right through her panties.
She nods mindlessly and whimpers again when my fingers slide over her clit, and arches her back when I move lower and shove two fingers inside her. One hand claws at my back, while the other continues jerking me slowly. She bucks her hips against my hand, riding my fingers as I pump them into her.
She abruptly lets go of my cock and shoves at my jeans with both hands, working them over my ass. I pull my fingers from her momentarily to stand to shed my jeans, then strip her of her leggings and panties.
When I lie back down next to her, I haul her against me with a hand around her waist so we’re facing each other on our sides. My hand slides under her shirt, and I tweak a nipple as her mouth crashes back to mine.
Her warm hand wraps around my cock again, stroking me from base to tip, slow and tight. She rubs her thumb over the head, spreading the precum there, and I hiss out a breath.
“Spit on it,” I growl against her lips. “Get it nice and wet for me.”
She pulls back to look down, then parts her lips and spits directly on my cock—slow, deliberate, filthy. Her hand follows, spreading it over the head and down the shaft, and it takes everything in me not to come right then and there.
I groan, kissing her hard, then grab her knee and drape it over my hip, pulling her closer.
“You really don’t have a condom?”
“No,” I tell her.
“I’m…safe,” she says breathlessly, brushing her hair back with one hand. “I haven’t had sex in…a while.”
Her eyes dance between mine, and I swallow hard before blowing out a breath.
“I’ve been tested too, but I never go bare.”
She seems skeptical, her eyes bouncing between mine. “Ever?”
Once.
Don’t think about that.
I grit my teeth and shake my head. “Never.”
She seems to understand that being inside her without a condom isn’t something I don’t want to do but can’t. Or maybe she doesn’t—how could she—but she doesn’t push me.
I’m not worried about either of us being safe medically. That part is never an issue. I get tested regularly, but it’s not something I do. Too much fucked up shit can happen.
“I need you to know I don’t do relationships,” I blurt.
She gives a long, slow pull to my cock, and my eyes roll back as she says, “Fantastic. I’m not looking for one.”
I flick my eyes to her hand working my cock and then meet hers again. “You sure?”
She huffs out a laugh, giving me another hard stroke that steals my breath. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
Her hand stills on my shaft. “And I said we are.”
I can feel her eyes on me, but for some reason, I can’t meet her gaze.
“Look, I’m not gonna fall in love with you or anything, okay? My life is messy enough right now without adding a relationship.” She tightens her grip and strokes again.
Fuck, that’s good.
“Fair enough. Consider me over myself.”
“Good.”
She strokes my cock faster, swiping her thumb over the tip and pulling my focus back to us. One glance at my cock in her hand and I almost blow right then.
“Turn around and get your ass against my cock,” I demand, and she doesn’t hesitate.
She flips to her other side, pressing that perfect ass against my hard, aching length.
The groan we both let out at the contact is inhuman. She’s so warm, and I reach between her thighs to drag some wetness over my cock. I can only imagine how perfect her tight heat would feel around me. My cock twitches against her at the thought of fucking her deep and slow.
Instead, I wrap my arm around her hips, work my fingers between those perfect pussy lips, and find her clit. Then I thrust against her, my dick sliding between her legs from behind.
“Oh fuck,” she whines, voice wrecked. “Your piercing—fuck—it feels so good.”
That sound, that breathless pleasure in her voice, nearly undoes me. I press harder, grinding into her, and she shudders in my arms.
The slick slide of my cock between the lips of her pussy from the back is heaven on earth. So fucking warm and velvety soft that I groan, before grabbing her chin and angling her head to the side so I can swipe my tongue in her mouth
She wraps her arm back around me, palming my bare ass, pushing our bodies together in a slippery, sexy rhythm. It doesn’t take long before we’re both panting hard, kisses messy and wet between moans and breathless curses.
I press my forehead to her temple, trying to catch my breath, but I’m so fucking close I can’t stop. I grind my hips harder, chasing the high, and feel her tighten beneath my hand, the tight, fast circles I’m making over her swollen clit.
Her breath hitches. “Oh fuck—Hutch—I'm coming.”
She arches into me, her body shuddering as she cries out, and I feel the gush of wet heat against my cock as she falls apart. That’s all it takes.
“Shit—fuck, I’m gonna come,” I grit out, the sound of her release tipping me right over the edge.
I pull back, groaning as I explode across her ass, cock jerking against her skin. She lets out a soft gasp as my cum coats her, and I watch the last twitch of her orgasm ripple through her.
“Holy shit,” I pant.
“Yeah.” Her voice is breathy, dazed, as our eyes meet again over her shoulder, glassy and still wrecked.
The quiet settles around us. It’s intimate after what we did, and something expands in my chest. It’s uncomfortable as fuck. Blowing out a breath, I sit up, swiping up my shirt from the floor.
Glancing down at the mess I made of her, all that creamy skin covered in my cum seems to flip some primal switch in me, and thoughts of coming inside her grip my mind.
I’d love to fuck that peachy cunt bare—her ass, too—unload deep and then watch it slowly drip out of her before shoving it back inside.
I shake my head and gently wipe up my mess.
What the fuck is wrong with me? What do I have, some kind of breeding kink now? Jesus. I’ve never been the type to get cunt drunk, so it surprises me somewhat that I can honestly see myself fucking Ginger over and over again.
I release a breath and stand.
She moves to get up. “You can sleep there.” I shrug. “I mean, if you want to.”
Why does my voice sound so insecure? Admittedly, it doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s not like I’ve never shared a bed with a woman after sex before. Sure, we’re usually drunk, but whatever.
Her expression is hesitant, but eventually she nods. “Okay.”
I wad up my T-shirt and chuck it on the floor of the van before pulling back the covers.
She cocks a brow at me. “You’re sleeping naked?
I stop, one knee on the bed, one foot on the floor. “Is that a problem?”
She doesn’t say anything, running her eyes over my naked body.
I grin. “I knew it,” I tease, “still can’t resist a big cock and a pretty face.”
She chucks my pillow at me.
“Okay, okay. Fine,” I tell her, “but they’re just gonna come off again later.”
I was totally teasing, but she rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Someone is sure of himself.”
I immediately hate the bite in her tone. It’s like a switch has flipped and she’s back to being irritated with me. It’s fucking exhausting. And confusing because why the fuck do I care?
I stand and silently pull my underwear on. Maybe it’s how she can’t seem to look at me—the way I suddenly want her to. With that thought alone, I decide it’s probably a good idea to put a bit of distance between us, so I grab a pair of sweats and throw those on too.
Bending down, I grab and then hand her leggings to her, panties still tangled in them.
“Can you get my bag? The little one,” she asks, still not looking at me.
“Sure,” I say, moving a few things around so I can get to it. I hand it over and sit on the edge of the bed with my back to her to give her some privacy.
When the rustle of clothing stops and silence fills the van, I blow out a breath and look at her over my shoulder. “You good?”
“Of course,” she says, and I know I’m not imagining the usual edge returned to her voice.
Not sure if she’s regretting what happened, I choose my words and tone carefully. She’s closed off again, and it’s not sitting well with me for some reason.
“Do you want to talk?”
She’s distracted, putting her hair up in a hair tie and glancing at me. “About what?”
I stare at her. Maybe it’s because I’m used to women wanting to talk after sex, or maybe it’s because she loves to use that sharp tongue on me, but something is bugging me about how she’s acting.
“About what just happened?” I feel like an idiot posing it as a question; she should know what I’m talking about. But wait…do I want to talk about it? Not particularly. So why the hell can’t I shut up?
Her voice is cool and nonchalant. “It’s an orgasm, not a proposal. What is there to talk about?”
The question catches me off guard and I open my mouth to speak, but she’s right. It’s sex. We’ve fucked around before and we’ve already made it clear that’s all this is, so why the need for clarification?
I shrug and then nod. “Okay,” I say and click off the light above the bed before climbing under the covers and settling on my back.
“Night,” she says.
Turning my head on my pillow, I can make out the white of her shirt, the loose bun she’s thrown her hair up in, and the slope of her neck. She turns over to get comfortable, putting her back to me.
I have the ridiculous thought of turning toward her, hauling her against me like I did the night of the storm—only this time, I want to bury my face in the spot between her neck and shoulder.
“Night.”