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"Bedroom," he demanded, voice a hoarse growl. Before he even finished speaking, I was shaking my head. "Why not?"
"Coop is in there," I told him, and as my brain cleared of the sex fog it had been in, I could hear him whimpering and scratching to get out.
There was a low growling noise that I took for disappointment or frustration, or both.
"I have condoms in my purse," I supplied, thinking maybe that was the hold up since everyone stored them where they tended to need to use them - near the bed. Even though I didn't have casual sex, I carried them everywhere, occasionally dropping them in the bathrooms in bars, just in case anyone needed some.
I barely finished speaking and his arm was reaching for it, undoing the main zipper, then going instinctively into the second zipper that every woman knew was tampon and condom storage. He came back with a condom that was a fall promotion, pumpkin spice flavored, and made a weird laugh/snort hybrid before I heard the slide of a zip, seeming to drown out any other thought in my head.
The desire, sated just a moment before, came surging back in a wild wave, completely taking me under again.
There was a whoosh.
Pants hitting floor.
A scrape of metal as he kicked the material to the side.
A crinkle of a wrapper.
Just when I was sure I was going to feel him surge inside, to put an end to the clawing need for fulfillment, his hands grabbed my hips and turned me.
Brilliant eyes on mine, he lifted one of my thighs, coaxing it around his hip to fold over his lower back, opening me up to him. And when he reached for the other thigh, his hard cock pressed against me as his hands sank into my ass, holding me aloft as he walked through my kitchen and into the living room, turning, and dropping down on the couch.
He had barely managed to sit before his hand was at the back of my neck, yanking me down to seal his lips over mine.
I struggled against the shirt, the urge to reach between us, grab his cock, and position it where I needed it to be so I could press down and take him in something akin to obsession.
But I couldn't get free, the material straining too hard against my shoulders.
So I dropped my hips, and ground my pussy against his cock, whimpering into his mouth as the head pressed into my clit. In response to the sound, his hand crushed almost painfully into my skull.
I knew he was lost too, likely way more lost than I was.
Six years.
It had barely been two for me, and I felt like I was losing my grip on my sanity every second that I didn't come.
I rode him, like we were fumbling teenagers too scared to go all the way, his hardness giving me just enough friction to drive me upward, to get me just right to the brink.
His lips ripped from mine as his hand sank harder into my ass, hard enough that there was a chance I would actually have bruises - a thought that made my sex clench threateningly - and lifted up.
Finally.
That was all I could think as my hips rose, as he reached between us to press his cock up against the entrance of my pussy, holding it there as a promising pressure for a long second, before surging his hips upward, and filling me to the hilt.
"Oh, my God," I cried out, fingers curling into my palms because they couldn't curl into him to hold on.
"Fuck," he growled back, closing his eyes, and taking a slow, deep breath.
He was seeking control. After so long a dry spell, I couldn't imagine how hard that would be to find.
And I didn't need it.
I didn't need him under control.
I needed him moving inside me, I needed just a moment or two and I would be crashing, and he could come with me.
"Eli," I called out, watching as his eyes slowly slid open, almost pained looking. "Fuck me," I demanded, moving my hips in a circle on his lap, making a low rumbling sound move through his chest.
Whatever hold he had on his control was lost then as his hand moved to hold onto my thigh and he started thrusting upward into me - hard, fast, unrelenting.
"God, yes," I whimpered, folding forward to rest my head in his neck as my hips slammed down to meet each thrust, taking him as deep as my body would allow.
His hand left my thigh, slipping into my hair, and yanking backward. "I want to watch," he said in a harsh whisper as his other hand moved between us to start working my clit.
It was seconds.
Just seconds.
And he was making the orgasm from just a moment ago feel like child's play as another, stronger one broke through me, making my breath and cry catch in my throat for the first hard, deep pulsation, then topple out together in a gasping sob as the pleasure kept coming.
