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He peels the socks off slowly, as if he’s doing a strip tease.
I giggle again.
Then I gape again. Even his feet are gorgeous. My God, he’s perfect.
His thighs are hard and thick, his calves meaty and muscled. “How do you stay in such great shape? With a desk job and all.”
He sits next to me on the couch and lowers his head to my ear. His hot breath makes me shiver.
“I get a lot of exercise,” he whispers.
“Doing what?”
“This.”
He flattens me on the couch and shoves his dick into me.
I cry out from the invasion, from the sheer pleasure.
He’s doing what I told him to do. He’s fucking me, and I’m enthralled.
I close my eyes—
“No,” he commands. “Look at me.”
I open my eyes and meet his hazel gaze. His focus is intent as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, sweat emerging on his hairline.
“You feel so fucking good,” he says, panting.
I open my mouth to reply, but only a groan emerges—a groan that seems to come from the very pit of my soul and moves outward, flowing toward him.
“I swear I could live inside you.” He thrusts. Thrusts. Thrusts. “That’s how good you feel around me. So tight but so silky. Perfect fit.”
Thrust.
Thrust again.
Though I’m tempted to close my eyes again and fall into a dreamland—for this must be a dream—I don’t let my gaze waver from his. I lock on to him, as if our eyes are held together by an invisible beam or force.
He’ll go longer this time.
After all, he just came less than a half hour ago—
“Aauugghh!” He thrusts deeply, holding himself there.
I feel him.
I feel him come.
Each spurt as he fills me.
He seems to reach my heart.
Finally, he collapses, his chest touching mine, his sweat mingling with mine. “My God.”
I say nothing.
“What is it about you?”
Again, I say nothing.
“I promise,” he says. “This night is far from over. You’ll get what you deserve.”
An ominous promise.
And one I intend to hold him to.
Chapter Thirty-One
Donny
When I finally find the strength to lift myself from the couch, I pull Callie into my arms. She melts against me, as if perfectly molded for my body.
Everything about her is like yin to my yang. The way her pussy gloves my cock, and the way she feels against me now.
She sighs against my chest. “I could use a shower.”
“Your wish is my command.” I exhale. “If I can move.”
She chuckles against me, her breath tickling me in a delicious way. “Not sure I can either.”
We stay on the couch, cuddled, for a few more timeless moments, until—
She disentangles herself from me. “Shower. But first bathroom.”
I nod. “The master suite is upstairs to your right. Bath is in back.”
I gaze at her gorgeous ass as she rises and walks away, still imagining that amazing rimming I want to give her. I should get up. Go with her. Take care of her.
But my body is so relaxed. Almost numb with pleasure.
My dick lies semihard against my belly. Just watching Callie leave the room has it perking up. Twice, and I’ll go again before the night is through. Already I know this. What I’m not sure I can do is take care of her first.
The situation has me seriously flabbergasted.
Callie Pike has me acting like a horny teen having his first sexual experience. Unreal.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the sound of the shower arouses me out of my haze.
She said she needed a shower.
I could use one too.
If I go up there, though, I’ll end up taking her against the shower wall. In my mind’s eye, I already see it happening. Wet and sleek flesh, her hair clinging to those amazing shoulders, her body melting against mine as I thrust up into her.
Yeah, there goes my dick. Hard again, just thinking about it.
Stay here. Stay here and let her shower, because if you go once more, you’ll be done for the night. Three has always been my limit, and it’s usually two.
The few times I’ve made it three times, I was quite a bit younger than my thirty-two years.
Callie deserves better.
Hell, I deserve better. I want more than anything to enjoy her whole body, not just her pussy.
And I want her to have an orgasm. Two, three, multiple.
As many as I can give her.
I grasp my cock in my fist, imagining her lips around it. Yeah, I want that too, and if I fuck her quickly again, I’ll never know the feel of her firm lips around me—at least not tonight.
“Damn,” I say aloud, rising.
I’ll help her shower. That’s all. I’ll control myself. I’ve never had a control problem before. I can handle this.
Handle is my middle name. I’ve been handling shit with verve since I was seven years old.
I walk out of the living room and up the staircase leading to the second floor, following the whooshing sounds of the shower.
