It’s all I can do to suck in air. He feels even bigger inside, and the pulsing of his cock feels like some kind of primal mating heartbeat. Or maybe I’m too in tune with him. Whatever the case, it feels like I’m burning up.
“Hold on to your knees,” he orders, then retreats slowly, only to start thrusting with a power and speed that drive me wild. The bead and ring bump into spots in my vagina I didn’t know existed. And each time, pleasure strikes like a lightning bolt. I scream, writhe… Beg him to stop, to keep going forever…
I no longer know what I’m saying or doing. The only thing I can chase is another peak. But the second I reach it, he pushes me higher, then higher again. My vision turns hazy; I’m hot and shaking with more orgasms than I can count. Somehow, through it all, I manage to hold on to my knees. And he rewards me for my effort. Calls me a good girl. Tells me how much he loves my tight pussy and how beautiful I am when I climax.
Another peak, and all I can do is lie there, mouth open in a soundless scream as I shake, feeling like I’ll die from pleasure.Finally, he clutches me tightly and shudders against me, his face buried in the crook of my neck as his entire body goes rigid.
I let go of my knees and close my eyes as he slowly relaxes, hoping to prolong the moment before he turns over and falls asleep. I sense him get up and pad away.Hmm… What next?I’ve never had a one-night stand before, and have no clue what to do now. Since he left first… Is it a sign I should get going? Except I can’t even lift a finger at the moment.
The sound of flushing and running water. A moment later he returns, and the mattress dips. He spreads my legs and puts a cool, damp towel on my flesh. It feels surprisingly soothing. And makes me feel cared for and treasured.
Once he’s done, he wraps his arms around me, the gesture oddly protective and…possessive?
“That’s a lot of firsts for one night,” I blurt out, my voice slightly raspy from screaming.
He frowns. “Are you saying you were a virgin?”
I chuckle. “No. But… A one-night stand. A pierced…” I gesture at his cock. “A guy bringing me a towel afterward. And—” I shut my mouth.
“And what?” His tone is lazy, beckoning me to take my time.
I blink, trying to recall how it went after he started to drive into me. Finally, I say, “Damn.”
“What?”
“You didn’t touch my clit even once after we got naked and I came.”
He considers for a moment. “Did you want me to?”
“No. I mean… It doesn’t really matter. It’s just that usually I can’t really finish without some stimulation there.” And Peter always rubbed it a few times to get me excited enough, like Aladdin rubbing the lamp just enough to get the genie out, no more. Then he made it sound like somehow it was my body that wasn’t responsive because other women weren’t like me.
“Well, now you know you can come without it. You’re welcome.”
I laugh at the cocky pride in his voice, then lay my arm over his chest. It’s nice to be held afterward and laugh.
His body radiates a comforting heat, and I nestle closer. My eyelids start to drift lower as exhaustion pulls at me.
“What’s your favorite breakfast?” he asks softly.
“Mmm…? Um…Belgian waffles with whipped cream and berries, topped with powdered sugar,” I mumble. It was what Mom ordered when she wanted to spoil me. There was a diner not too far from where we lived when I was a kid, and the owner always gave her a small discount and asked us how we were doing and if we needed anything. In retrospect, it’s obvious he liked her. I wishhe’d been my dad. Then we would’ve been happy even if we lacked the material abundance of the Webbers.
Not gonna make the mistake Mom made. Gonna marry a man who loves me and treats me like a queen,I think drowsily as Huxley places tender kisses on my forehead.
Chapter Eight
Grace
I amwrecked.
That’s the only word that comes to mind as I carefully get up and roll out of bed. Huxley is sound asleep and doesn’t stir.
The nightstand clock says four thirty-seven. Muscles I didn’t know I had protest as I move around the bedroom, gathering my clothes.Holy moly. My legs tremble, my thighs and calves as sore as if I ran a marathon last night.
Well. It might as well have been—a marathon of orgasms.
Still, it’s best to leave now and avoid an awkward conversation. We can end on a high note—a great night of sex and some talk and laughter. If Huxley were local, I might stay, but he’s not. I sigh as I take in the gorgeous hotel. As intrigued as I am about him, I don’t have the resources or bandwidth to start a long-distance relationship, especially with my mother in a hospital in Baltimore. That’s the only long distance I can manage right now.
After I put on my clothes, I look back at the bed. Huxley hasn’t moved.
