23. Morgan
Morgan
“Roll over,” I tell Scarlett, and she does, exposing the unseen places of her body that were hiding before.
Scarlett is gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous.
There is no other way to describe her. Every curve is perfect, unapologetically thick and soft and perfect.
I let my eyes trail over her for a moment, simply taking her in before I touch her.
When my eyes land on her navel, she covers it with her hands. Again and again, I tug her hands away.
“I can’t give you a massage if you cover yourself up,” I tell her.
I don’t know if she doesn’t want me looking at her stomach, or if she is worried about the birthmark, which I do recognize.
It’s an elephant in the room that we are not strangers to one another’s bodies.
An elephant we ignore. As I drizzle more oil over her and run my hands over her skin, we find it easier to ignore everything else.
“You are so beautiful,” I tell her, and Scarlett’s eyes flash open, meeting mine.
But I only continue to massage, first around her neck and the tops of her shoulders.
I am standing over her, looking down at her.
As I press my thumbs into her tense nerves, her shoulders melt.
Then, as I lean down over her, kissing her upside down, I feel the rest of her relax as well.
Our lips slowly part and I stand straight again, my hands traveling lower to the swell of her breasts.
I take each of them in my hands, kneading them and toying with her nipples, making her gasp and shudder.
They’re small, hard and perfectly pink. And oh so very sensitive, especially with the oil.
I flick them with the tips of my fingers, and Scarlett squeezes her thighs together, bringing her knees upward as she wriggles on the bed in pleasure.
For a moment, I continue to tease. Palming the fullness of her breasts in my hands, tracing my thumbs up over her nipples again, tickling them until she unravels a little more, clenching the sheets in her fists.
Then I slowly travel south, over her navel and the familiar heart-shaped birthmark, and all around her pussy, which is neat but not bare.
I move my hands over her hips and down her thighs.
Each time, her hips rise in anticipation of my touch.
Each time I come close, but not close enough. Until I do…
I run my hands over her, just above her pussy, teasing the nerves there. Then I glide my fingertips upward until they run behind her breasts and back down, lower with each run. Until finally, finally, I glide my fingers down the length of her.
“Yes,” she says, clearly in desperate need.
“You’re so wet,” I tell her.
“Yes,” she says again, and I cover her pussy with my palm. Then I find her clit and swirl my fingers around it, spiraling towards the center and flicking it.
“Oh, God!” She lets out, her hips crashing against my palm as she rides my hand. “Oh God, yes! Just like that. Yes. Oh…don’t stop,” she begs. And I don’t. I pick up the speed, sending her into a frenzy as she grinds against my hand.
I’ve teased her long enough, and I want to give her what she needs. I also want what I need. And what I need is to feel her tight pussy wrapped around my pulsing cock.
As soon as the last wave of the orgasm overtakes her, I shed my clothes, tossing them on the floor.
Then I crawl on top of her, caging her beneath me and kissing her hungrily, tugging her bottom lip between my teeth.
All the while, I stroke my dick in my hand, gliding it from base to tip, making it harder and smoother with each glide.
Then I hop back up and grab her by the hips, flipping her over and yanking her towards me. Scarlett lets out a shriek, but her lips tilt up to me, awaiting my cock. And I know she is aching with as much need as I am.
Without warning, I thrust myself inside her, and Scarlett gasps.
“Oh shit…” she lets out, but it’s a good oh shit. One that tells me she wants more.
And that’s a damn good thing because so do I.
I amp up the flow, my hips colliding with her gorgeous ass in a smooth rhythm that is both intentional and rough.
But guessing by the moans and groans coming from Scarlett, I am pretty sure it’s not too rough for her.
I’m not surprised a girl with her passion for life likes to get a little rowdy in bed.
And I am not complaining. Ever since that first time at the Sapphire, I have thought about this.
I have relived it in my dreams night after night.
And morning after morning I have woken up so frustrated and so hard that I had to relieve myself in the bed or the shower before getting ready for work.
And sometimes even then, the hardness was residual.
It seemed like as long as I had to go without having her in person, I would stay frustratedly turned on.
And all that pent up frustration is coming out now. And it was well worth the wait.
As my hips continue to crash into her, Scarlett’s moans fade to whimpers, a cue to switch positions. It works for me because I want to see her face when I make love to her and when she comes.
I lift her up and lay her on her back. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips full, parted and sweet.
Her hair is wild and wavy, and her temples are flecked with drops of perspiration.
And now, I am able to look at her, my eyes slowly tracing the curves of her body, without her trying to cover herself up.
I ease myself over her, my hands on either side of her head and my eyes locked on hers as I slowly thrust myself inside her again. Warm, tight, familiar, mine.
She lets out another moan and her body eases against mine.
As I grind against her, it’s more like a dance than anything else.
Slow, sexy, connected. Scarlett’s legs wrap around mine and I drive in and out of her.
Slowly at times, then more quickly, switching it up to encourage different sensations with each push.
“Fuck,” she lets out, placing her hands on my hardened pecks that are flexing from the endurance. Sweat gleams on my entire torso, shimmering in the lines of muscle definition, and I catch her staring.
“Are you okay?” she asks between thrusts, and I smirk.
“Hell yeah,” I tell her.
“You’re working up a sweat.” She smiles, and my smirk widens to a grin.
“Fucking you seems to be a full-contact sport,” I tell her.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asks.
“Not at all,” I answer. “I’m a very competitive man.”
Scarlett giggles, but it shifts to a moan as I pick up the pace again, our hips slamming together to take us to the finish line and beyond.
Because as much as I am enjoying this, as much as I never want it to end, I have needs that very much need to be met right now. In short, I need to get the fuck off.
I come to my forearms, closing some of the space between us.
I love the feel of her soft body rubbing against mine, the friction between my muscles and her curves, her hard nipples against my chest. All the while, I collide with her, deeper, harder, faster until I can feel the mounting tension surging through me and exploding into her as the orgasm thunders through both of us.
“Oh God…”
“Fuck…” I groan as it takes us again and again in the most intense orgasm I have ever had.
It leaves both of us panting, and I roll to my side and onto my back. For a moment we can only lay there, recovering from the riptide of pleasure.
After a moment, when she is able to speak again, Scarlett lets out a small giggle.
“Whoa…” she says, and I smirk.
“Yeah… whoa.” I echo.