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“Yes,” she cried, slamming her hips back into me to prove how true her words were.
“Thought so,” I said, letting her turn forward again, but keeping a handful of her hair, tugging back as she got closer and closer, her pussy a fucking vice grip as she got to that edge.
Then she was pulsing around my cock as she came, her cries filling the kitchen.
If I hadn’t been holding her shirt and hair, she would have pitched forward with the way her arms went slack, leaving her dangling by her hair for a second before she came back into herself, her hands bracing on the floor again.
“Fuck, I need more of that,” I said, releasing her hair and shirt, grabbing her shoulders instead, pulling her back against my chest as I started to fuck her again.
Slower.
Gentler.
Giving her body a chance to recover, and slowly build back up as my hand went between her thighs, working her clit even as she started to rock back into my lap as the need grew.
As she got bolder, I stayed still, letting her drive herself up with her head rested back on my shoulder, her eyes closed, her moans starting soft and low, then getting louder and louder as she got closer.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “Come for me, baby,” I demanded as her pussy tightened again.
Then she did, crying out my name as she did so, taking me with her, the orgasm so intense that I swear I fucking blacked out for a second.
My arms were around her after, neither of us in a rush to separate as we struggled to calm our ragged breathing.
“I think that was better than stress cleaning,” she said, breaking the silence, a cute as fuck little smile toying with her lips as she said it.
“Baby, any time you need stress relief, you are free to hop on my cock,” I said, getting a surprised, snorting laugh out of her.
“You’re ridiculous,” she decided, sliding off of me as she reached to yank her tank into place, then wiggling her panties and shorts back up.
“I’m serious as fuck about that, actually,” I said, getting up off the floor to toss the condom, then tuck my cock away.
Finished, I leaned against the sink and watched her start cleaning again.
“I’m one call, text, or carrier pigeon away when you need a good, solid fucking,” I told her, watching her cheeks go pink. “I thought your stress was relieved,” I commented as she continued to clean.
“It was, but I can’t leave the floor half-cleaned,” she said, rolling her eyes at me like I was being ridiculous.
“I brought hummus wraps,” I told her.
We’d been shoveling away a lot of crap. And I knew whatever Eddie was going to make was going to be heavy. So I’d opted to balance that out with something lighter for lunch.
There’d been a moment in the car that I’d heard an old, familiar voice in my mind. Whispering shit about how long it had been since I’d hit the gym, about how long walks and good sex sessions weren’t going to cut it, that I was going to lose definition. All that old shit that used to occupy my mind constantly.
I actually didn’t even notice how absent that voice had been, how quiet my mind had become, until I heard it start jabbering away again.
The difference was, now, that I didn’t immediately believe it, didn’t buy into it, didn’t act accordingly.
This time, I heard how ugly it was, how toxic.
I wasn’t going to undo years of work on my body by a lax week or so.
And even if I did start to lose a little definition, if I put on some weight, who the fuck cared? Who was judging me?
Not Siana.
Who’d confessed once to having a crush on a plus-sized male celebrity because she thought he probably gave great hugs.
She wasn’t shallow.
