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Please, oh yes, please.
To my surprise, my climax looms over me already. I close my eyes to home in on the rapture awaiting me. The sweet heat of his fondling sends me to another space.
Minutes later, pleasure blossoms through my lower region. I quake and twitch beneath him.
He slows his caresses while he covers my mouth with his. My arousal still percolates, but I sigh with satisfaction against his lips. His fingers slip lower and curl into my slit. I gasp. He’s found another spot that eagerly rears at the attention. It doesn’t take much before I’m moaning and digging my fingers into his triceps; the most delicious agitation swells in me with each stroke of his.
“Oh, God,” I plead in a small voice.
This orgasm is going to be more intense than the last, and I worry that I won’t be able to control how my body reacts. He quickens his ministrations and kisses me harder. With a cry, muffled by his mouth, I lose it.
It’s as if all the pressure in me has collapsed into the area between my legs before bursting all over. I buck and shake like I have epilepsy.
I’m not quite recovered when he pushes himself up and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt before pulling it off. He unbuckles his belt next.
“Wait, I didn’t bring anything,” I say. Maybe he’d be okay with a hand job?
He gets off the sofa, sweeps me up and tosses me over his shoulder. For a moment, I admonish myself for letting my guard down with someone I haven’t known that long.
He carries me into his bedroom, which is just as spectacular as the rest of the residence. Dim recessed lighting turn on automatically the instant he walks through the door. The bed, swathed in white and slate bed linen, looks larger than king-sized. A wide fireplace faces the bed, and there’s a huge skylight above to see the stars and night sky.
I’m dumped on the bed and know he’s intent on taking his turn now. From a bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom. He puts it between his teeth so that he can undo his pants and pull them off. My gaze takes in his chiseled chest, tapered hips, and the bob of his erection. He’s so sexy that even a condom in his mouth looks especially hot.
I guess we’re going all the way.
Tearing open the wrapper, he unrolls the condom over his shaft. My pussy flutters in anticipation. But he doesn’t shove it in yet. Instead, he takes off my shoes, pulls down my underwear, and caresses my legs before settling between them. He rubs the tip against me, teasing me until I start to feel hot and bothered again.
I raise my hips, an invitation he takes and pushes in. A vein in his neck pulses. Our gazes meet. His stare makes my pussy throb. He sinks in farther. I haven’t had sex in a while, and he feels especially hard as he stretches me.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs, pressing farther, until he’s fully buried inside my wet heat.
He exhales. I clench down on his shaft, wanting more of him. He braces himself by putting his arms on either side of me, then slowly begins to roll his hips. It feels amazing. He feels amazing. My arousal is primed to take more of him.
He slides one arm beneath my leg, opening me further so that he can thrust deeper.
“Oh, God,” I find myself pleading again. I grasp the arm still braced near me.
The pace and pressure is perfect. Once in a while, I yelp when he shoves a little too hard, but mostly the push and pull of his cock, the grinding of his pelvis against my clit casts me on a wave of delight, enticing my appetite for more. I’ve never come three times in a row before. Twice, yes. But three is exciting.
He straightens and fondles my clit with his thumb. This shoots me over the edge. I grab the bedcover beneath me as I quake and cry. My pussy pulses madly.
Wow.
When I emerge from the rapture, I feel relaxed and invigorated at the same time. Darren rolls me on top of him. I straddle his pelvis and try to repay the favor. He gropes my breasts through the dress as I ride him, working up a small sweat. I should have taken off Simone’s dress, but I’ll make sure I wash it before I give it back. He grabs my hips and helps me grind myself into him.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he mutters, bucking his hips up at me.
We’re both perspiring from the exertion.
“Want to come again, Bridge?” he asks.
Seriously? A fourth time?
“I don’t have to,” I murmur, wanting him to have a turn.
“Rhetorical question,” he replies as he insinuates his thumb between where our bodies are joined and rubs my clit.
I love the stimulation of my clit while filled with him. In my opinion, it’s the most perfect pairing. Better than chocolate and peanut butter, or macaroni and cheese. Anything.
