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Looking sheepish, Bal made quick work of their underwear, tossing them off to the side with the mix of other discarded clothing. “We can go slow. If you want me to stop just say so.”
Nayome nodded, breathing picking up as she felt one of Bal’s fingers reach down between her thighs. She was wet and ready for him, slick with desire, her body felt like it was burning up, her hips rising up greedily to meet his hand.
“Bal, please,” she whimpered, needing him to hurry, her body taking over. Any remaining hesitation she had sailed out of her head. Glancing down, Nayome’s eyes widened as she saw him, no barriers left between them. He was beautiful, hard lines, thick shaft straining to get to her. Moaning, she opened herself up to him, reaching to thread her hands around his neck, wrapping her legs around his hips, reveling in the feeling of their heated skin coming together.
She felt him start to enter her, stretching her deliciously wide. Her body was more than ready to accommodate him. Nayome felt full. She felt right. This was living, this beautiful man had reminded her that there was life outside work. And she wanted more of it.
They both moaned simultaneously as the full length of him sank into her slick heat. In between pants, Bal managed to ask “Are you okay?”
Confused, head swimming, Nayome could only manage a moan, as she rocked her hips against his. She needed him to move, she wanted more. The pressure building in her needed release.
Bal was happy to oblige. They settled into a natural rhythm, sweat slicked skin glistening in the dim lamp light. Nayome felt herself rising, higher and higher, meeting Bal stroke for stroke, until she shattered. For one blissful moment, she knew nothing but pleasure, she was blind, clutching Bal to her like an anchor. His name left her mouth like a sob as pleasure ripped through her body.
Distantly, as though through a fog, Nayome knew Bal was right there with her, her name, uttered in a languid moan drawing her back into the moment.
Shifting his weight so that he was lying down beside her, Bal pulled her in so her head was resting in the crux of his shoulder, the only sound was their laboured breathing as their legs tangled together and Bal pulled the comforter over them both.
Sighing happily, feeling content, Nayome snuggled in, riding the heady afterglow that had turned her muscles to butter.
