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“Give it,” he drives into me, “up.”
My pussy starts to spasm and pull him in deeper, “Lennox, oh god.”
“Give it the fuck up to me,” he demands and with one more ruthless thrust, I’m coming all over him, digging my nails into his back and screaming, crying, shrieking words of pleasure, words of nonsense, words of ecstasy.
He loses control and drives into me like a man possessed until I feel his whole body go rigid above me, every muscle locking up, and his warmth pulses inside of me before he finally collapses on top of me.
I have never been so thoroughly fucked.
Once our breathing settles, he rolls off and drags me into his side, my head on his chest and one leg wrapped over his thigh. I guess cuddling is ok, at least post-orgasm cuddling, the best kind.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs.
“Aye, fuckin’ hell,” I tease back, in my best Scottish accent.
Sixteen
Headline: Formula 1 Star Wins Hearts at Charity Gala, Donates Quarter Million to NYC Children’s Hospital
Blog: Paddock Playboy Captures New Co-Pilot
Insta: Gibbes and the Girl in Givenchy
PastriesWithPasties: him in a tuxedo, omg, be still my beating heart
46BlackFlags: who’s the chick?
BuddyTheElf: I’d do her
CrateNBurro: His new PR person? She’s at press with him at races.
DigbyDevotee: She’s no Kate Allendale.
GrooveIsInTheHeart: Oh please, at least this one isn’t a twig!
RumbleStrip1985: I’ve stared at this photo for an hour, jaw still not closed.
Lennox
“It’s actually not as bad as I was expecting,” Mallory says in disbelief, 30,000 feet over the Atlantic. She’s been face first in her laptop since the moment the crew turned on the wifi. She wasn’t scheduled to fly home with me, she was going to stay in New York for one more night, but she said she’d rather join me on the jet than fly economy.
Fine by me. Mine.
She found her phone I’d hidden yesterday and recoiled in horror when it lit up like a Christmas tree, pings and bings screaming from it. I assume most of it was from her parents given the colorful four-letter words she mumbled back as she scrolled and swiped.
It wasn’t hard to distract her, though.
We stayed in the room all day until checking out this evening. I ordered room service, she let me steal one of her pancakes, and I fucked her six ways from Sunday all over the Presidential Suite. She was convinced the glass would shatter when I took her up against the window overlooking Central Park. Given the octave of her screaming my name, I think it was a real possibility.
I shouldn’t feel a sense of pride watching her squirm on the white leather couch on the plane as she finds a comfortable way to sit, but I’m full of male ego this evening. The rest of my season is looking up. If I have to put up with the Celeritas bullshit, at least my nights will be satisfying.
“Your parents give it up?” I ask from my recliner seat across from her.
“Oh no, definitely not. But the news, the blogs, everything on social is surprisingly… good?” She keeps twirling her fingers and clicking on the trackpad on a hunt for the disaster she’s expecting.
I guess that’s a relief, for her. I’m used to handling the hateful comments and trolls. Most days, it rolls off my back. I don’t want her dragged under with me, though. Trying to keep Mum, Pop, and Bram out of it is enough work.
“I guess you’ve done your job, then.”
