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“Andrew,” she moans. “Oh damn, you’re gonna make me come again.” She grabs my face and our eyes lock.
Watching her fall apart brings on my own climax. But coming together while looking into each other’s eyes is so intimate, so special, I know she can feel it. She has to know this is more than a one-night stand.
Eight
MAXINE
Iwake up at some point in the middle of the night with Andrew’s hot naked body pressed against mine. He’s hard and nestled up against my ass and one of his large palms covers one of my tits.
I don’t think he’s awake at all, but my pussy is drenched just from him being so close to me. Every part of this man is magic, and I want another hit before I have to go back to my real life. The life where I’m just shy of being an actual doctor but had to quit school because my grandfather thinks I’m too fat.
But this beautiful man behind me thinks I’m perfect just the way I am. I reach behind me, between our bodies and guide the thick mushroom shaped head of his dick to my entrance.
He groans in my ear as he slides all the way inside me. “Maxine, sweet thing.” He licks and nibbles on the back of my neck while his fingers and hand play with my tit and his pelvis rocks him in and out of me. His pace is leisurely, nothing like the frenzied fucking we did earlier.
No, this feels a lot more like love making. I reach up and grab the back of his head, just to press him closer to me.
Once upon a time I’d believed in romantic fairy tales and happily ever afters. That person is still inside of me, and she desperately wants this man to be her happy ending.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that I know are coming, forcing myself to just feel the pleasure of our bodies.
“I could wake up every day to the feel of your bare skin next to mine,” he murmurs. “God, I love the way your pussy feels around my dick.”
His hand slides down my body and grips my hip. Then his fingers are between my folds and circling my clit, slow, slow, slow.
“Andrew,” I breathe. “Just like that, please don’t stop.”
“I’ll never stop. I’ll make love to you forever, sweet thing.”
That’s when my orgasm crashes over me. Pulse after pulse of pleasure shudders through me.
“Fuck, your pussy is squeezing my cock so hard. Goddammit, Max, I’m gonna come.” His fingers dig into my hip again and for some reason I hope he leaves bruises. Some kind of mark that proves he was here.
He bites the back of my shoulder playfully. “I think I might have to keep you for a little bit longer.”
I force out a chuckle, then make my way to the bathroom to clean up and relieve myself. By the time I come back to the bed, he’s already fallen asleep.
I should probably just leave now. Walk away before I get too attached and have my heart broken. But looking at the thick sweep of his lashes shuttering his soulful eyes, I can’t make myself walk away. At least not yet.
The following morning, I wake up to the heavenly scent of bacon and coffee. Even if it’s bacon flavored coffee, I am all in.
I quickly get myself dressed, finger-brush my teeth and go in search of fat and caffeine. As I pass through Andrew’s livingroom, I stop at his Christmas tree. The colored twinkly lights are already lit, illuminating the various ornaments.
It’s not a professionally decorated tree like they have at department stores. There are no matching, colored glass balls or specific color schemes or themes. No, these are ornaments that clearly mean something to him.
There are ones that look as if made by a small child. An upside-down palm print painted onto a card and then made to look like a reindeer. One of the googly eyes has fallen off though.
Then there are several from all over as if he collected them as he’d traveled to different places. This is what a Christmas tree is supposed to be. Not those manufactured ones I grew up with where a team of servants would put together something so perfect looking. You were never allowed to touch it or even stand too close.
A sense of longing I don’t quite understand surges inside of me and my eyes start to sting.
“Come’ere, sweet thing. I made coffee. I know you love coffee,” Andrew calls from the kitchen.
How does he know that? I mean aside from everyone generally liking coffee. So it’s a decent guess. But when I get into the kitchen, he has my favorite creamer out on the counter as well as the special no-calorie sweetener I use.
He holds out a mug to me. “Here, darlin’,”
“Thank you.” I take a sip and it’s perfect. Before I can ask him how he knows how I take my coffee, there’s a ringing sound that blares through the kitchen.
