Page 118 of Jonesing for a Spy

“You’ve been naked under here all night?” His eyes snap to mine.

“Fully clothed, actually. Every single bit was covered.”

“One flick of my fingers and people could’ve seen what’s mine,” he mutters to himself.

“Would you ever do that?” I whisper.

“Never.” His answer is instant and definitive. “And if someone tried…” He doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, he drops to his knees, lifting one heeled foot from the pants leg before setting it back on the floor. He taps the second and when I lift it, he slides the jumpsuit off but throws that leg over his shoulder and licks me from my ass to the bundle of nerves that throbs with need from him.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I chant the word on repeat while fighting my fingernails from digging into his shoulders to stay upright.

He growls, he groans, he grunts, all the while opening me with his hand to get deeper, to spear me with his tongue, to devour me from the inside out.

I’ve given up trying to stifle a moan. I’ve given up trying to keep my leg from wobbling. “I… Strider, I—” I’ve given up needing to taste him at the same time. “Fuck, I’m going to…”

I can’t finish the thought. My body tightens in a coil, my eyes close, and my heart races. My legs are weightless… or I am. I’m cresting a wave that carries my body out to sea.

Or maybe that’s Strider lifting me. I think I’m flat on the bed, but how…?

The pleasure doesn’t ebb, doesn’t retreat; it magnifies. He flicks and flattens his tongue on my clit as two fingers enter me. He pulls harder, sucks deeper, using his shoulders to open me wide when my body so desperately fights to close.

When the second orgasm barrels through me, I no longer float… I drown. And just as I gasp for air, he fills me, stretching the moment in pure bliss. Rippling inside me becomes a rolling sensation.

Strider pushes in as my body tries to press him out and he pulls out against my core trying to suck him in deeper. It’s the most torturous pleasure. His long cock strokes deep and hard.

The man above me stares where we’re joined. His eyes dilate nearly black and are hazed with lust. The image of him, pounding into me, looking at my center, with my heels at his ears would do me in. But it’s his chants that seal my fate. “Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Mine. All mine. Fucking perfect. My Mirren.”

When his thumb hits my overly sensitive clit, I jolt. That movement sets off something so deep inside me where his cock thumps at my G-spot. And I’m done. I scream as everything inside me implodes.

Strider

Watching her take me is beyond my wildest fantasies.

The feel of her tight pussy around my dick is heaven on steroids.

But Mirren’s body milking my cock is exquisite torture for which there is no recovery. I come like a freight train unable to brake.

I’ve wanted her.

I want her.

I’ll always want her.

The very idea of losing her now is the kind of pain I won’t survive. My body will crumble to ash at the mere threat. I’m a man on his knees begging her to be mine. That is, if I could speak. Or breathe.

The best sex of my life has been in the last few weeks. And all of it with the woman below me whose flushed skin highlights the freckles playing across her nose and cheeks.

“Marry me.” Well, that wasn’t exactly what I intended to say…

What I feel, yes. Where we’re going, sure. What I want, fuck yes.

“What?” she gasps, her hazy eyes fighting to focus on my face, and her pussy clenching around my dick.

I press my cock deeper into her. “Marry me, Freckles.”

“No question.” She says, apparently to herself. “He didn’t even ask. Just a command. Why would I not have the choice? Just because I’m so sated my brain doesn’t work?”

I pull out again and glide in to the root, hitting the end of her. “Mirren Jones, marry me.”