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Fuck.
‘I’m holding my breast, feeling it, rolling my hand over my nipple...’
Jesus Christ.
‘You know what I love?’
‘What?’ My voice is gruff.
‘When you bite down on my nipple just as you push your big, hard cock inside me.’
Okay. I’m about to come. Standing here on the bank of the River Liffey, surrounded by darkness and lewd mental images.
‘And I love it when you go down on me.’
I can feel her against my mouth, taste her sweet surrender as though I really was there with her.
‘Come over, Michael.’
She’s an addiction. I need to control this. And yet...
‘I’m moving my hand lower...oh, God, I’m so wet, Michael, so wet.’ She stops talking, and all I hear is her breathing, faster, needier, sweeter.
Fuck.
‘Come...over...’ she implores between snatched breaths. ‘And fuck me.’
She’s an addiction; I am addicted. I’ll fight the consequences of that tomorrow. For now... I need my next Millie fix.
‘Be there in ten. Don’t you dare move.’
* * *
I’ve left the door to the apartment unlocked so when Michael arrives I hear it push inwards and smile. I’m exactly where I was when he disconnected the call. Naked, in bed, my hand on myself, my cheeks pink, my eyes fevered. Desire is a fever in my blood, possession by Michael the only antidote.
‘I want a photo of you like that,’ he groans as he walks in, undressing quickly as he crosses the room.
I stare up at him, the moonlit night casting him in silver and grey. His face is so familiar to me, so achingly familiar. I commit it and this moment to memory. He pulls a condom on quickly—he’s already hard, completely ready for me and this. He parts my legs with his hands and his eyes hold mine as he drives into me and I cry out, pushing up, burying my face in the curve between his neck and shoulder, wrapping my legs around his body.
‘You are so fucking perfect,’ he mutters, the words slamming into me, digging into me, wrapping around me and doing something to the core of my being, the fibre of who I am. ‘What are you doing to me, Millie?’
Something snaps in my chest but pleasure is taking over, making thought impossible. I shake my head, then search for his lips, finding them, kissing him, tangling my fingers in his hair as my mouth seeks his.
He pulls his cock out of me and I moan into his mouth, feel his lips curve into a smile as he drives himself into me again, fast and hard, so deep, and I groan because it’s perfection—absolute, complete perfection.
I dig my feet into the mattress, pushing my hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke. His tongue clashes with mine, rolling me, and then he rips his head away, pinning me with the intensity of his moonlit stare for a second before he drops his head to my breast and does just what I asked him to, clamping a nipple in his mouth, rolling it with his tongue so I’m incandescent with need and then biting his teeth on the edge, the sensitive, over-stimulated tip.
I whimper, completely lost to this, to all of this, pleasure a fire in my gut, release so close.
‘I’m coming.’ I tilt my hips and he drops his hands, holding me where I am, pushing into me, reaching deep inside me, his eyes watching me, and I don’t look away. I stare back at him as every cell in my body reverberates and tears, stretching, ready to explode. I watch him watching me as finally I tumble off the edge of sanity, my orgasm robbing me of breath, light, vision, sense. I am atoms and earth dust, nothing more.
He thrusts into me and I squeeze him tight; he says my name as he comes hard, his body racked with the force of his pleasure.
The intensity of this tightens like a blade at my chest.
I stare at him and for a second, for the smallest second before I can control the direction of my thoughts, I wish I could stay like this for ever. With him for ever. The pull of what we share is so strong, so powerful; it’s like quicksand and I can’t have it.
Michael is temporary. A pit-stop on my world tour. Nothing more. He took my virginity, he’s taught me about sex and pleasure, but he’s not going to get in my way. Nothing is.
