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“How do you want me?” she asks, her voice a little hoarse, and I press the heel of my palm down on my still clothed dick to ease some pressure.
“Turn around,” I say, my voice no less rough. A memory of a dream, of me sinking inside her on the floor, pounding into her. “On your hands and knees.”
She licks her lips, glances down at my hard-on, and then turns, giving me her slim back. She puts down her hands, lifts her heart-shaped ass, and I sit back on my heels, staring at her.
“Hot damn,” I whisper, fucking awe-struck and lost for words. Shakily I shove down my pants and briefs to wrap my hand around my dick. “Fucking hell.”
The head of my cock nudges her opening, and she shudders as I sink into her, a slow, smooth plunge that drives the air from my lungs. Buried balls-deep in her hot pussy, bent over her sinuous back, I don’t care if I never move again.
But she shifts, gasping, and ripples around my cock. The urge to move, to find friction, slams into me, takes over my body, and I rock my hips.
We both groan.
“Faster,” she breathes, and I’m already pulling out a fraction only to push back in, molding my chest to her back.
Throwing an arm around her waist, I haul her back, onto my lap, and she cries out. Again I put my hand over her mouth even as I pant harshly, so deep inside her my dick twitches, burning like fire.
A shout sounds from somewhere outside the room, then laughter.
We should stop. I should get up to lock the door.
The hell I will. Let anyone walk in on us, let the world crumble for all I care. There’s no fucking way I’m pulling out of her now.
Not when she grinds back against me, her pussy clenching around my cock, slick and tight. I rock in and out of her, and she bites lightly at my fingers that are pressed over her mouth. I slide my hand down to grip her waist, while gripping on to the back of the couch with the other, pounding into her, feeling the need coiling at the base of my spine.
The pressure is mounting, making my balls ache. I’m holding on to her hard enough to bruise her fair skin, riding the razor-thin edge between pain and pleasure.
Then she reaches up to fondle her breasts. I can only see the movement, rhythmic, circular, hear her breath stutter, feel her walls squeeze around my dick, but it’s enough.
Enough to shatter the pressure and bow my back as my dick pulses and pleasure burns a path from the tip to my balls and ass. I’m coming, bursting inside her, flooding her with my cum, and she’s still rocking her hips, wrenching a gasp from my throat.
Oh God.
She’s still riding me, and I’m still half-hard. On instinct, I reach down between her legs, circle her clit, and then she’s moaning out my name and fluttering and contracting around my spasming cock.
Killing me. Dragging sounds from me I never thought I could produce in pleasure—a keening cry first that dissolves into a moan that comes from deep inside of me, clawing its way up my chest.
“Cass…” I clutch her to me, and we move together until the pleasure ebbs, leaving my body heavy. “Cass…”
Don’t leave me.
Chapter Eighteen
Cassie
The next days are madness. When I wake up on Sunday morning on a dusty couch, naked, with Shane wrapped around me like a blanket and my head pounding from the tension of the previous day as if I’d drunk a bottle of tequila all by my own, I get a call from Mom.
She’s sick. Oh and heart-broken. She wants attention.
Seriously?
But she’s the only family I have left. So I inform Shane that I have to drive back as soon as possible, and he tells me that’s fine with him.
We say our goodbyes to those few awake, swallow some coffee and get back into my car to drive back to Madison. We’re lucky there isn’t any ice on the road. The ride to Shane’s apartment is quiet. When I turn sometimes toward him, I find his eyes on me.
Still haven’t entirely gotten over yesterday’s fear that something had happened to him. Even during the near-violent sex we had later—the memory heating the tips of my ears—the ball of tension in my gut is still present.
What I’d like would be to go upstairs with him and cuddle on his sofa in front of the TV. Hold him and stroke his hair and kiss him until I’ve convinced myself he’s all right, really all right and not just faking it.
