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Rough. Fast. Deep. Downright animalistic. I can feel every inch of her and every inch of me as though our nerves are raw and exposed live wires.
This isn’t just sex.
What this is transcends the physical and crosses into an experience that can’t be categorized with a simple label.
I pump faster, harder, and Carly lifts her hips to meet my strokes, both longing for the relief of my retreat and demanding I rectify it at the same time.
My heart feels like it’ll burst inside my chest as I creep closer and closer to my climax and will it to wait for Carly’s to come first.
Stroke after stroke, my dick throbs with the pressure of impending release, and Carly’s head shakes back and forth in the agony of pleasurable purgatory.
Until finally, fireworks explode behind my eyes and a missile of feelings crash-lands in my chest as Carly’s body rears its pleasure, her back arching gloriously and her cries filtering away from us in the flow of the wind.
“Fuuuck,” I groan gruffly, my dick pulsing until every last vestige of my energy is spent.
This isn’t just something we’re doing. It’s something that’s been done. To me, to her, to the universe—it all feels like it’s been irrevocably changed tonight.
And just like everything else with Carly, I don’t know if now that I’ve experienced the feel of it, I can ever go back.
October 10th, very early Saturday morning
Ryan
The outside world is still dark as we try to get ourselves ready to head back home.
I have no idea how much sleep we managed last night, but my guess would be one or two hours, tops.
“I gotta say, Ryan,” Carly says as she attempts to put her clothes on beside the hotel bed. “You really did a number on my attire. Normally, that wouldn’t be such a problem, but you’re the one who told me not to bring an overnight bag, so…”
I smirk over at her. “Sorry about that. I guess I got a little carried away, huh?”
“Ya think?” she teases. “But also, please never stop getting carried away.”
That makes me chuckle as I pull my boxer briefs and pants up my thighs. “So, does that mean Carly prefers bad-girl sex over good-girl sex?”
“Carly prefers every kind of sex as long as it’s with Ryan.”
I flash a wink in her direction. “The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”
“Although, next time, when you tell me not to bring an overnight bag and you’re planning to rip my clothes to shreds, maybe bring me an extra pair of boxers, a T-shirt, something.”
“Deal.” I chuckle, toss my shirt over my head, and finish with my socks and shoes.
“It’s a damn good thing Stella won’t be awake when I get home. She’d probably think I got mauled by a gator or something,” she announces on a half whine, half giggle. “I mean, it’s like I’m on Project Runway over here, trying to fashion some clothes out of pinecones and wrapping paper. And it’s all thanks to the Sex King.” She flashes a cheeky grin my way, and I watch on in amusement as she tosses her torn panties in the trash can beside the nightstand and manages to tie her skirt into place with a knot that rests at her hip.
“Wait…the Sex King?” I question. “Am I the Sex King?”
“Oh, come on, Ryan. You have to know that you’re, like, really freaking good at sex.”
“I mean, I didn’t think I was bad at it.” I shrug and grin over at her as she moves on to her now buttonless blouse, using a similar knot approach to finish off her ridiculous ensemble.
“Uh…you’re far from bad, buddy.” She snorts. “If I didn’t know you were too uptight to work in the sex industry, I’d be convinced you were like a porn star or something.”
I roll my eyes at that. “You do realize that it’s not just me who makes the sex between us so good, right?”
“You think I make sex good, too?” she asks, and I’m shocked by the genuine questioning in her voice.
“Are you kidding me, Carly?” I shake my head on a laugh and run a hand through my hair. “I’ve basically become a walking hard-on because of you.”
She blushes, and it’s the cutest fucking thing in the world.
I step toward her, wrap my arms around her waist, and pull her to me so I can place a deep kiss to her lips. “Last night was amazing,” I whisper against her mouth, and Carly leans back to smile at me.
“It really was.”
“And I hate that it has to come to an end, but we should probably get going.” With one final kiss to her nose, I step back, and she grabs her purse.
I head toward the door of our hotel room, passing by the bed where the sheets and pillows are still left from the three rounds of good-girl sex we had once we got back from the beach.
