Page 18 of Jonesing for a Spy

She screams and bucks, and I smile and suck her into a long, deep second orgasm that is the best moment of my year, maybe my life.

I lave and hum and extend it as much as I can, reaching back to unhook her panties from one ankle so I can crawl up her body, dragging the denim of my jeans over that tender spot and watching her jolt and her eyes fly open.

They’re soft, and her smile is small. I kiss her heart once more before I find myself caging her in, elbows beside her.

“Want to go for three?”

8

slutty little glasses

Mirren

Three? Three! My body can barely function, and I’m seconds away from falling into a buzz so glorious it will be the very definition of bliss forever. It’s the standard of ecstasy—on a scale of one to Strider Anderson, it’s a trillion.

“My— I… Three?”

The man looming above me has a lazy smile that looks for the whole world like the cat who got the cream. He’s so proud of himself, so boyish, so pleased.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m shooting too low. Let’s go for four, but we’ll settle for three if you’re too tired to give it your all.”

My body is so sated, I can’t argue, but the afterglow in my head evaporates. “Did you just reverse psychology me into sex?”

He leans so close I can feel his breath on my lips. “I’m offering you the ultimate in human pleasure, and you’re acting like it’s a dare. Is that what it takes, Freckles? Okay, I dare you to fuck me until you get blissed out by coming all over my cock.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling our last few minutes in my belly and my clit as I do. “Fine, Strider. I accept your dare. But I want to be on top. I’m going to go slow and deep and drive you out of your mind, edging you until you want to explode.”

His eyes crinkle in the corners. “Sure. If you insist.”

“If I insist?” I slice my eyes to slits.

With a small grin on his lips, he lifts a shoulder. He takes my mouth, his eyes open and watching me, letting me taste my orgasm on his lips and tongue. Out of nowhere, he flips us so I’m astride him and lifts his hips so I’m reminded of what’s beneath me.

Rising, I grab his belt, unhooking it, then undoing the button of his jeans. The teeth of his zipper scratch, and I smirk, looking into his eyes, those slutty little glasses on full display as his chin juts proudly.

“Are you trying to punish me with the slow-walk?”

“Well, since I’m capitulating to your dare”—I emphasize the word—“I can play however I see fit.”

“She’s trying to kill me,” he says to the room, rolling his eyes.

“She is.”

The smile that breaks across his face is worth every bit of anxiety and mortification today.

“Would she mind torturing me with my dick out of my pants? It’s a bit… claustrophobic.”

“I’ll allow it.”

It’s the throaty laugh and the vibration at my most sensitive place that changes the vibe. That and my groan.

I hold his eyes to pull open his fly and palm his dick. Shit. He’s long and hard as a steel pipe, with a slight curve back toward his belly.

He slides both hands behind his head to watch me take him in.

“You were smuggling this weapon all along? Things could’ve gotten awkward if your towel hadn’t held up.” I look at his belly. “Then again, this is probably why it couldn’t fall.”

A look of smug satisfaction crosses his face. “Thank you.”