Page 83 of For the Love of Art

“I like the sounds you make,” he murmured against my skin. He lifted my hips and positioned himself so he was directly beneath me. “Sit down.”

I did, and slowly, every inch of him filled me.

“Nathan,” I breathed.

“Yes, baby?” His right hand moved onto my breast, his finger and thumb caressing my nipple to a peak, while his other hand slid between my thighs and slowly circled my clit. I moaned loudly. “God, keep making those noises.”

His touch caused my hips to move, and Nathan groaned into my shoulder.

Once again, I could feel the pressure building in my core, begging for release. As it grew, so did the volume of my moans. Nathan seemed to like that, increasing the pressure against my clit while keeping the rhythm the same.

“I’m going to– I’m–” I couldn’t get the words out.

“Yes, baby. Cum. Let me feel you.”

I did. Explosively. I let out a garbled string of nonsense as my orgasm raced through my body and out every extremity.

I was breathing heavily as Nathan pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back.

“Now, let’s see how deep I can get,” he said before kissing my lips and reinserting himself.

I cried out as he thrust inside me. Was sex always meant to feel this good?

Nathan continued to thrust in me, and I arched my back as another orgasm built in my belly. I could feel Nathan tensing and knew he was likely getting close. Was it selfish to hope for one more–

“Holy fuck!” I yelled as another orgasm surprised me.

Nathan’s mouth captured mine. I felt him tense, and he groaned into my mouth before we collapsed into a satisfied heap on the bed.

Nathan’s breathing was even, and he looked peaceful in the dim light. His bedroom looked out over Central Park because money could buy that. The lighted trails were pretty from this far up.

I kissed his chest before slowly pushing the covers off me. I placed my feet on the plush carpet and snuck around the room, slowly picking up my discarded clothing before heading to the door.