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“Isabelle.” His voice was a low rumble. “Tell me you have condoms.”
Still circling him with her thumb, she smiled. “And here I thought you were the kind to always be prepared.”
“I...wasn’t expecting...”
She laughed. “Of course I have condoms. The drawer next to my bed.”
“Thank God. I need to fuck you.”
Those words went through her like a shot. She wanted everything from his body; she wanted to lick him and suck him and stroke him, but mostly she wanted that.
Tom shucked the rest of his clothes then reached for her pants. He had those stripped off in moments. Isabelle lay back and stretched her arm up to the bedside table to fumble in the drawer. She finally found a condom box wedged between her vibrators and handed it to him as he knelt on the bed next to her.
She liked looking up at him this way, his lean body so strong above her and his cock so proud and thick. She was already spreading her thighs for him, but Tom lay down at her side instead of sliding between her legs.
Poised above her on his elbow, he cupped one of her breasts before catching her nipple between his thumb and finger. “Look at you. Just as perfect as that painting.”
Before she could respond, he ducked his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Isabelle bit back a cry. His hand plucked at her other nipple for a moment, making her back arch as she bit her lip. But then his hand slid down. Slowly. Down her ribs to her navel before shaping one hip. Then back up to the curve of her belly and into the curls between her legs.
His cock pushed against her thigh.
She waited, holding her breath, but he only cupped her for a moment, his big hand cradling her pussy, adding his warmth to hers. Then his middle finger slipped over her wetness, sliding into the seam of her body. Isabelle gasped, her hips jumping.
“You feel so sweet,” he whispered. “So wet and warm.”
“Yes,” she breathed. Yes, she felt perfect. Her body the exact opposite of his. Soft and yielding to his fingers as she parted for him.
His fingertips grazed her clit, and she gasped again.
“Shh,” he cautioned, stroking her now. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a cry of pleasure. But when he circled her clit and bit down on her nipple at the same time, she cried out.
“Shh,” he repeated, his breath cold where he’d sucked at her.
She nodded and pressed her mouth tightly closed, not wanting her friends to hear, if only because it would be awkward for them. But she rocked her hips up to meet the short strokes of his fingers. Yes. Yes. It felt so good. So unexpected after the familiarity of her own hands. Not as firm or sure as her touch, but new and teasing and— “Fuck,” she groaned, pressing up into his hand.
His fingers stroked a little faster, a little harder, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. “Fuck me,” she begged, pulling his hair so he’d look up at her. When he raised his head, she kissed him. “Fuck me, Tom,” she said against his lips. “Please. Now.”
A low growl was his only response, but he was kneeling between her legs, thank God, and tearing open a condom wrapper within seconds. She watched greedily as he rolled the condom on, watched it stretch over that perfect cock, and she ached inside, hollowed out with need.
He fisted himself and eased between her thighs, and the first stroke of his broad head against her was a torturous promise. He stroked against her again, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders to urge him on. She wanted everything.
He notched against her and pushed in, just a few inches, but that was enough to make her moan.
“Shh,” he murmured, then “Shh” again as he slowly sank another inch deeper.
“Oh, God,” she whispered as her body stretched for him, and the ache spread out. Finally, he paused, his hips flush against hers. Both of them were breathing hard. His back was slick with sweat under her clutching hands. And she was full. As full as she could be. Then he drew back and thrust.
“Ah!” she cried, unable to hold back at the nearly painful pleasure. She tried to swallow the sound, but when he sank deep again, she couldn’t help it.
“We have to be quiet,” he breathed.
“It feels so good,” she said, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold it all in.
“I know.” He pushed more slowly this time, and she squirmed with lust. “I know. Can you be quiet?”
Isabelle shook her head. She couldn’t. If it felt this good at the start, there was no way. “Please don’t stop,” she begged. “Please.”
“Shh.” His hips hardly moved now, his cock just barely sliding in and out in short, slow, careful strokes.
