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Polly’s knuckles tightened on the bench, his body following where her rhythm led. Everything dipped and dived and her vision behind her closed eyes went red, then purple. They were fucking like wild animals next to the kitchen sink and it was the most amazing thing in the world. There was no-one to see or hear them, andooooohh fuck, yessss, just there—that last perfect thrust and she was flying, right up there in the stratosphere of super orgasms. The kind that blew your head right off your body and sent your pussy into a dance of cosmic joy.
With her internal muscles bunching around him, sucking him deep, that did it.
“You’re going to make me come so hard.” His gritty, harsh words set her on fire, made her wring every last drop of pleasure out of him, until finally Solo’s sweat-sheened body collapsed onto her.
Polly couldn’t move, limp as a rag, Solo’s belly against her butt cheeks, his chest heavy on her back, his lips feathering kisses on the back of her neck.
“Mmm, you smell delicious,” he murmured in her ear before he pulled out reluctantly and disposed of the condom.
Some time later, now fully undressed, they’d managed to make it to her bed and lay facing each other, their joined hands sandwiched between them just like they’d been on the dance floor swaying to Chris Isaac; only now, of course, they were horizontal, not vertical.
It was all she could do to not let stupid, crazy, dumb words spill out of her mouth.
Words that had one wicked four-letter word squeezed in the middle. A word that hadn’t been in her vocabulary since she was sixteen and naïve enough to believe it actually meant something
She bit down on it like a shark swallowing a school of unruly little fish.
And then he kissed her nose.
