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“Holy shit,” he gasps, grasping onto my waist. “You feel so goddamned good.”
I merely mewl in reply, tossing my head back. I push myself down some more, eating up that man meat with my secret space, until he’s balls deep inside. Then I begin pulling up again, and his member reappears between my thighs, glistening with my juices.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re such a slutty girl.”
I mewl again.
“I am,” I breathe. “I’m your slutty girl, Dane.”
My gorgeous neighbor takes control then. His big hands circle my waist and he holds me still as he begin to fuck up into me. Oh my god, it feels so good. That huge shaft is like a piston, drilling into me again and again from below. Zings rocket through my twat as my nipples pebble, and I begin to scream. Not low moans, but actual screams.
“Yes!” is my shriek. “Oh fuck!”
“Give it to me, Margot,” he pants. “You’re so goddamn tight.”
And after a few more hard thrusts up, both Dane and I explode into a million particles of pure ecstasy. Stars dance before my eyes as I throw my head back and let out another full-throated scream. My pussy spasms hard, even as he jets heavily, that giant pole filling me with his seed.
“Unnnh!” is my inarticulate shriek. “Fuck!”
Dane roars again, before biting into my neck.
“Goddamn, your twat is tiny,” he huffs while releasing another stream of virility into my fertile fields. “Oh shit.”
This goes on for what feels like ten minutes. Ten minutes of him pumping away as I wriggle and shriek, my breasts and pussy sparking with sensation. He grabs a nipple in his mouth and sucks fervently, appreciating my curves.
Finally, we come back down to Earth and pant, looking at one another. Our bodies are covered with a damp sheen of sweat, my curves glowing golden in the light of the kitchen.
“Holy cow, did that really just happen?” I ask in a wondrous voice.
He grins.
“It sure did, Margot. I think the only question is: are you ready for Round Two?”
I giggle and we kiss passionately before the lovemaking begins again.
9
Dane
Three months later.
I never thought my life could be like this. The truth is that even though I’m a divorced man, I never thought I’d be divorced. When Amelia and I got married, I genuinely thought we’d stay together forever. There were dreams of happy endings and forever-mores in my eyes.
But dreams are for boys and reality is for men. Those dreams went up in smoke as Amelia became more and more distant. I tried my hardest to make it work: I suggested therapy, which she rejected; I surprised her with flowers, which she routinely forgot to put in a vase; and I cooked her meals, which she ate without any comment. None of it made a difference.
By the time the divorce papers were signed my marriage was long gone. We’d been leading separate lives for years by then, and frankly, the papers were just the final step.
After that went down, I figured I’d been entering a period of singledom for a while. It was going to painful for sure. I’ve read articles about how everyone seems to be on five different dating sites now, with airbrushed pictures and needlessly upbeat profiles. I’ve heard from friends how you can text with a potential date for three months and never end up meeting. I’ve also heard that some of those profiles are fake; allegedly the dating sites pay models to be on their sites. It’s not technically against the Terms of Service because the models might be single and looking in real life. Yet, they’re getting paid to respond to messages, when in reality, they’re probably paid by the word.
As a result, I was resigned to years and years of fruitless games of cat-and-mouse. I’m too young to die alone, and yet I certainly wasn’t looking forward to setting up my dating profiles and going on lots of hopeless encounters.
Enter Margot.
She’s absolutely gorgeous, with not a mean bone in her body. She’s curvy, sassy, and sweet, and best of all? She’s my neighbor. She lives right down the street from me.
I’m the luckiest man alive because who knew such a gem was in my vicinity? Most times you have to kiss a lot of frogs before meeting a prince, but shortly after my divorce papers were signed, Margot showed up. It was like Fate was on my side.
So we’ve settled into a loving, warm relationship. We see each other most nights; either she comes over to my place, or I go over to hers. Tonight, Margot’s at my house and we’re cuddling on the couch while watching a movie.
“Shhh, this is the best part!” she whispers, her eyes watching the screen avidly. “Eric Northman is so hot!”
I roll my eyes.
“Do you really like Viking-types?” I drawl. “Does it really make sense that he’s a Viking who’s also a vampire?”
