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I could talk: my cock wept with pre-cum, desperate to be inside her. But, this morning, I wanted to take my time and bring her to climax with slow, almost lazy, strokes.
Amanda whimpered as my fingers teased her, spreading her wetness over her clit. She arched her back further, pushing those perfect globes of her arse further in the air. I growled and sunk my teeth into her cheek with a playful nip.
“You bit me!” She looked at me over her shoulder. I sucked and soothed the spot as I chuckled against her skin.
“Column D, row 23.”
She blinked in surprise. “My spreadsheet.”
Last night over dinner, Amanda had showed me her private spreadsheet of sexual experiences and positions she wanted to try.
“Aye, your spreadsheet.” I kissed the spot on her arse cheek again. “Ye wanted to someone to bite ye. So I did.”
She writhed against my fingers which slowly moved along her seam. “Again. More.”
Lust surged through me. I bit her other cheek, harder this time, and she moaned. I slipped one finger inside her and Amanda rocked her hips against my hand.
“Stuart, I need you inside me.”
Plans for slow sex evaporated. I reached for a condom from my bedside drawers as she slid the pillow under her stomach. She arched her back which raised her butt, and her glistening lips of her sex, up to me like an offering.
“Column C, row 12.”
I groaned, running a hand over her bottom. “Take ye from behind.”
“Ye remembered,” she murmured, watching me sheath myself.
“I find I can commit anything to memory with proper motivation.
I rubbed my tip against her entrance, coating myself in her slickness.
“Hurry, please,” Amanda moaned, looking at me again over her shoulder.
I rolled my hips and slid all the way in, and held myself against her.
“Christ, it feels… like I’m deeper.”
Amanda’s pussy trembled around me. “Oh god, Stuart. It feels so good.”
I fought every urge in me not to come right now, like some teenager.
“Please, move. Mr McAlister.”
That request almost had me coming there and then. I grabbed her hips and drove into her, looking down to watch myself enter her again and again. I ran a thumb over the bite marks, still visible on her skin, unreasonably pleased by how I’d marked her.
I needed to be closer, I needed more skin, moreher.
I bent over her back, my right arm under her right shoulder, propped up on my elbow so as not to crush her and increased my pace.
“How does that feel, hen?”
“So good.” Amanda panted, murmuring incoherent words.
I kissed her neck, shoulders, back; but I needed her mouth on mine. I cupped her jaw and kissed her, our tongues tangling in a hot, wet mess.
I broke off with a cry, further increasing my pace, my left hand seeking her breast. I couldn’t touch her enough.
“Oh God,” Amanda moaned, her body quaking. “I’m so close.”
