THE WORD ENOUGH DOES NOTexist when it comes to Tara. I have learned this the hard way. It may have taken us into the early morning hours, but I kept my word. I have fucked her all over this hotel room. After we broke the bed, figuratively, I bent her over the arm of the couch then had her sprawled out on the living room floor, spread eagle and pleading for more. I’m a different person when I’m with Tara. Desires I didn’t even know existed spring to the surface, and she is the only woman who can satisfy them. Even now, as dawn breaks over the high rises and the Sunday morning light brightens the room, I am still dying for more. Even now, as I have her pinned against the window buried inside her, I know my appetite will not be fulfilled. I’ll still want more. With Tara, I always want more. And that is completely detrimental because this weekend was about fucking her out of my system, not making her a vital part of it. I grip her wrists tighter as my cock thickens and another earth-shattering climax looms near. She is completely subdued beneath me, her legs forced apart by my brutal thrusts, her nipples clamped, her breathing strained.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” she pleads with her eyes screwed shut.
“You need to come?” I jab my erection into her, circling my hips, slowing my motion. She expels a distressed sigh. It makes me even harder, which I didn’t think was at all possible. I pullout, only leaving the very tip of my pulsating cock in her saturated pussy.
“What if I use my tongue to make you come?”
“No,” she protests, replying exactly the way I want her to.
“No?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“You want my cock?”
“Yes!” She tries to move her hips to gain more of me, but I have her trapped.
“Tell me. Tell me you want to come all over my cock.” I lick her neck in a long, slow, heated drag.
“I want to come all over your cock,” she says with conviction.
She’s so close; her flesh so swollen and hot I could probably just nudge her with the head of my dick and she’d shatter.
“CJ, please.”
I don’t know when begging began to turn me on, but like I said before, I’m a different person with Tara. Or maybe it’s Tara turning me into a different person. I’m not sure which or either. I just know I’m enjoying this new, sexually liberated side of me.
“Beg for it.”
“Please, god please, just fuck me! Fuck me hard, make me come!”
Who am I to say no to an earnest plea like that?
I give Tara what she’s begging for. What, in reality, we are both begging for. A blissful, blinding release. I don’t hold on for long, as my entire being seems to become engulfed in Tara’s heavenly body. We both spasm with pleasure, our cries of explicit tournament equally loud. Then there’s nothing. Nothing for a long while except white noise and clear morning light.
Melted against her fevered body, exhausted both physically and emotionally, I unclamp each of Tara’s nipples and kiss her through the dull pain as blood rushes back to the abused little points. Once her harsh breathing subsides, I dispose of the condom and then lift her off the windowsill and into my arms. She’s limp against my chest as I walk across the room and deposit heron the bed. I smile like a stupid fool as I lie down next to her. Her skin is flushed, her cheeks are pink, and the corners of her lips are curled up into a satisfied smirk.
“If I told you you’re beautiful right now, would that be completely corny?”
Tara flutters her eyes open to look at me, that sweet little smirk permanently etched on her mouth. “I don’t think it’s ever corny to be called beautiful if the person saying it really means it.”
“Well, then, you’re beautiful.” I snuggle up behind her so we can spoon. She sighs sleepily.
“Thank you,” she replies graciously as she yawns. The exhaustion is mutual. I drop my head on the pillow and inhale the clean scent of her hair. It’s almost therapeutic, like eucalyptus at a spa. I close my eyes and drift off, dreaming of plumeria flowers and New York high rises and a beautiful blonde imploring me to stay.
THE SOUND OF A RINGINGphone wakes me. At first, I think it’s a dream because I don’t recognize the sound, but then, I realize it’s not my cell. It’s the phone in the hotel room. It repeatedly rings only pausing for a few seconds before it starts up again. I reach over a sleeping Tara to answer it.
“Hello?” My voice is raspy.
“Sir, this is Raoul from the front desk. This is your courtesy call. Your limo to the airport will be here in a half hour.”
I rub the sleep out of my eyes, disoriented. Limo to the airport? What time is it? I glance at the clock. It’s nearly six pm. I scheduled a red-eye back to Oahu so I could sleep. That plan has been shot to shit considering Tara and I slept the entire day away.
“Thank you,” I respond gruffly before hanging up. This is not turning out how I planned. I wanted to spend more timewith Tara. Go out to lunch, take a walk in Central Park, something before I left for good. But I guess last night took a toll on both of us. The moment of truth came sooner than expected, and now, we have to face it. I stare down at her sleeping form, memorizing each tiny feature on her gorgeous face. The way her platinum blonde hair falls across the pillow and how she tucks her hand under her chin as she sleeps. After a few moments, I reluctantly wake her.
“Tara,” I whisper in her ear. “Time to wake up, shortcake.”
She moans, protesting against opening her eyes.
