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I concentrate on only that one part of him as I straddle his wide body. Just having great sex has to be emotionless. It has to be about the physical pleasure derived from the act.
I groan when I slide down the length of him, pausing at the halfway mark to give my body time to adjust to the fullness I’m already feeling. He makes a matching sound, his big hands coming into my line of vision as he grips my hips.
No longer able to resist looking up, I want to cry when I see his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in an ‘O’ shape.
I hate that he can’t look at me even though it was something I just failed at myself. He draws in a deep breath as I sink lower, his head rolling to the side.
“Fuck,” he pants.
I’ll be damned if this is going to happen for a second time and end before I get my own orgasm.
If that’s all he has to offer, then I plan to take it, and as quickly as I can manage.
I roll my hips, grinning at the warning grip on my hips. I couldn’t care less at this point if he gets what he needs. This moment is about me. I don’t care about his feelings, physical or emotional.
I lift up, and despite him trying to hold me aloft, I drop back down, spearing myself fully on his cock. A moan of pleasure escapes my lips, and his eyes jerk open. I falter in my movements with his eyes now on mine, but then he lifts me up and lets me fall again.
His eyes carry a dazed look in them, but he keeps them open. He drops his gaze to my breasts as they bounce with my movements, but at least they’re open. I can’t exactly hope for a soul-shattering connection right now. The orgasm brewing deep in my core will just have to do.
I double my efforts, my breaths coming out in rough pants as I slide up and down his generous length. He moans when I can resist no longer and I just have to grab my chest. My fingers toy with my nipples as my hips rock back and forth. I’m more grinding on him than anything, but each forward roll teases my clit with just the right amount of pressure, and maybe this is how I get all of myself back from him. Maybe coming and then walking away is what I need to do.
My body quickens, core tightening, and I swear I can distinguish between every damn vein on this man’s cock as I explode. My hands fall from my breasts to the solidness of his muscles, so I don’t fully collapse, needing to ride out every damn pulse of my orgasm.
Harley has other plans, gripping my hips and holding me up while he fucks into me from below. The result is the most earth-shattering orgasm my body has ever managed.
My head is rolling on my shoulders when he grunts his own release, and I can’t even be mad that my plan didn’t actually occur.
Jesus, that was great sex, just as I knew it could be if I managed to get out of my head long enough to let it happen.
I feel boneless, but when his arms drop heavily to the mattress, I manage to climb off of him, heading to the bathroom the very same way I did yesterday.
God, I’m going to be sore for a while, and if it weren’t for what I know it will remind me of, I’d actually smile at the ache already forming in my thighs.
I pee and clean up like any respectable woman would, but I also can’t look at myself in the mirror. As if I need him to feel even more guilty, I don’t stay in the bathroom long. If he’s going to duck out, then he can do it with a witness this time.
Only when I step back into the room, he isn’t gone. Curled over on the edge of the bed, he does, however, have his back to me.
I don’t say a word as I pull clothes from my still packed suitcase and dress quickly. I don’t question why I feel like I need the same escape he took yesterday.
I tug sandals on once I’m dressed and start to walk toward the bedroom door. Maybe he needs a few minutes to himself. I know I sure as hell do.
“That’s twice,” he says, his voice low as I cross the room.
“Yep,” I say, wondering why he would even think I can’t count the number of times we’ve been together.
I can count on two hands the times I’ve had sex. I’m not confused like he seems to think I am.
“Without a condom, Ali. We had sex twice without a condom.”
