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“Jesus,” he whispers, taking me in before dipping his head to my breast, gently swiping his tongue over the erect nub before pulling it into his mouth. Arching my back I urge him to take more, and greedily he does. I’ve never had a man get off on my pleasure before. It makes me feel beautiful and reckless.
“I thought you were going to take me to your bed,” I remind him as he grabs hold of each side of my panties and slides them down my thighs while his knuckles trail goosebumps in their wake. “Or are you going to bend me over the couch?” I tease breathlessly.
He nips at my thigh, and I squeal in pleasure. “I don’t care where I fuck you, just as long as I fuck you,” he groans, placing my leg over his shoulder, but I grab onto his hair before his mouth reaches me. The way he looks at me… I feel a wave of energy run through my body, something I have never felt before. Men have looked at the way my blouse gaps during a reach or the length of my skirt when I cross my legs, but nothing has ever made me feel this wanted – like I am somethingmore.
Rocking back on his knees while he looks up at me helplessly through thick black lashes, I dare to make him wait, to be the one in charge, to make himbeg. He watches with rapt attention as I pull my finger into my mouth, wetting it, as if I even need to, before dragging it through my slickness. His nostrils flare and a whoosh of breath escapes his lips as they part while his fingers dig a little deeper into my skin.
His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he rasps before trying to taste me, but once again I stop him. All I have to do is move out of his reach, even if it’s just an inch, barely noticeable.
“Lake,” his voice is a harsh, warning of how bad he wants it, stirring something inside me, making me weak, but I can’t stop now.
His dark expression is hazy as my finger dips inside, dragging the wetness forward to circle my clit, bringing myself close to the edge. It’s intoxicating to watch as arousal completely takes him over.
His body moves involuntarily, rocking imperceptibly to the cadence of my finger moving back and forth, in and out. I’ve never felt so much power and vulnerability all at once, warring inside of me, but the longer I make him wait, the sweeter the high.
Looking down at him with my other hand locked in his hair as I tease him causes my breath to hitch and my nipples to pebble. His eyes flick up to mine, the wordplease, lingering on his lips in a drunken haze. I can feel his hands shake as he digs his fingers deeper into my hips like I’m his life preserver, and if he were to let go, he would sink helplessly. His mouth hovers so close that I can feel his breath against my wet and throbbing pussy making me shiver.
“Please,” he begs, barely audible, the words sinking into my skin and making me lightheaded. “Let me have it,” he pauses before he begs again, “please.” His words break open a levee inside of me. I simply let go of his hair and his mouth is on me in a feverish daze, causing my back to hit the glass. It rattles with the force and sounds like thunder.
“Oh, fuck,” I yell, shaking, my legs barely able to hold me up. The back of my hands hit the glass, trying to keep my balance as he spreads me with his fingers, sliding his tongue along my slit and then grabbing onto my ass to bring me further into him.
Rocking against him, I fuck his mouth unabashedly, a woman on fire chasing the high like the addict I am. It’s him that makes me lose all decorum, causes me to forget there is a world going on around me, and lose all sense of time. With him, I am who I was always meant to be, someone reckless and wild. With each thrust of my hips, his fingers dig deeper into the tender skin of my ass cheeks that will leave evidence of my indiscretion. The cadence of my moans accelerates as his mouth latches onto my clit. Everything tenses like the stretch of a rubber band, and my eyes pop open feeling the snap.
“Adrian!” I scream, bucking against him as I fall apart like the dust being washed away by the rain.
I hear the zipper of his jeans right before they hit the floor. The familiar rip of a condom wrapper breaks the silence before he pins me to the glass, lifting my legs around his waist as he thrusts into me with such force it threatens to break the glass. He doesn’t let up, fucking me with all of his pent-up frustration and elongating my orgasm so much that I can’t tell when one ends and another begins. I’ve never been fucked with such destruction before that my breaths come in short snaps of air matching each thrust. The burn rips through me without an ounce of care, and the sound of his groans and swift intakes of air only fuel me further.
It’s unlikely that anyone would be out walking the grounds of the apartment complex this time of night, but if they were, they’d get a great view of my ass being pounded into the glass door. Right now, I couldn’t care less if someone were watching; I only care about him and what he does to me.
Coming to my senses enough to kiss him, I grip his face, pressing my lips to his in a slow and tantalizing way, the opposite of the storm raging inside of me. While he groans against my lips, I feel his cock pulse inside of me, his thrusts slowing while he rides out his own orgasm. His chest thunders against mine as if he’s just run a marathon while he runs his hands through my hair, resting his forehead against mine to catch his breath, smiling. “I will never be able to listen to anotherAerosmithsong without thinking of your sweet fucking pussy,” he says out of breath, accentuating each word with his deep and rough voice.
Laughing against his lips, I kiss him again, pulling on his bottom lip as I let go, and feeling this ache inside of me that has nothing to do with his cock. He slides out of me, placing my feet gently on the ground and holding me up. My legs feel like Jell-O, barely able to hold my own weight, and I slump against him. His brown hair is a mess, pieces sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes. I gingerly brush them away so I can see his face, my hand resting against the rough patch of hair on his jaw.
“You’re fucking killing me, Lake,” he groans, still out of breath, “in the best possible way.”
Does he know what his words do to me? How they burn through me like wildfire, lift me up like a gust of wind, only reminding me how easily I could crash to the ground.
The dim light from the hall creates a halo around his body. Standing in front of me, his chest heaving while I run my hands over the tight muscles of his shoulder, tracing the black ink and down his torso to the flat of his stomach where his cock, still hard, rests against his soft skin. I don’t think I have ever admired a man’s body this much before. I now have a better view of his tattoo and realize it wasn’t scales or feathers but a compass surrounded by the desert. Drinking him in, I want to memorize every inch so that one day when I’m in another boring meeting, I can touch my fingers to my lips, close my eyes, and see him as clearly as I do now.
As I circle him, my fingers glide over his back and down to the curve of his ass cheek, admiring how nice and firm it is while his head tilts in my direction. There is no doubt he keeps himself in shape, but it’s more than that. It’s the protection of youth covering him like a fine mist as his body glistens with sweat.
“What?” he whispers with a slight chuckle, finally able to look at me as I stand in front of him, snaking my arms around his neck and pressing my breasts into his bare chest.
Meeting his eyes, I run my hand up the back of his head and grip his hair. “You’re just so goddamn pretty,” I say, causing him to laugh. Without warning, he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder for the second time tonight.
“Adrian!” I scream while he carries me into the bedroom, and I can’t help but laugh.
18
TOO OLD FOR NICKNAMES
Strong Enough by Sheryl Crow
Hooking my bra and securing my breasts back in the cups, I slip my arms through the straps adjusting them on my shoulders. As I’m bending down to grab my shirt, Adrian pads into the living room wearing only a pair of shorts, his chest bare, as he leans against the back of the couch watching me.
“Trying to sneak out again?” he asks, rubbing his chin.
Slipping my shirt over my head, I button my shorts as I admire him. “I have to get home,” I say, but I don’t finish the sentence withto my daughter. For some reason, mentioning her here, in his apartment, especially after he made good on his promise to fuck me thoroughly in his bed, feels wrong. Like uttering her name taints her with whatever I believe this to be, no matter how good it is.
