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He can be mine for this tiny fraction of time. And I can be his.
My thoughts jumble and travel elsewhere with the consistent ministrations of his tongue darting in and out of my most private parts. I’m spread bare for him in the lamplight. But would he have done this in the alley? And if we hadn’t gotten interrupted in Jake’s office, what would those mirrors reveal about me? I’ve seen pleasure on Cary’s face, but what of mine? And what’s with his penchant for watching?
I tilt my chin and look between the valley of my breasts. Cary’s mouth is on the tender bundle of nerves, but his eyes are on me. I search for something dirty to say to egg him on, but Cary moves his left arm and I feel the invasion of his thick fingers and the words get trapped in my throat. He needs no encouragement.
My splayed legs shake. Cary moves his right grip up toward my knee, bringing that limb closer to his ear as if he likes nothing more than burying his face in my pussy. My left hand rubs against the hard peaks of my nipples and my right hand dips low. I’m able to touch the hair on his cheek if I stretch my fingertips.
Our eyes connect, and I see the spark of the devil. Not a man out to do harm, but one experienced enough to bring me to the brink and for whom the sins of the flesh he’s developed an undeniable fondness for.
I let this level of unabashed persuasion guide me to the point of no return, allowing Cary to steer me as I crash down and he wrings the last flutters from my body.
In a rush of pure male satisfaction, Cary has the condom out of his wallet and me shimmying to make room for him on the bed.
I brace myself for his swift infusion into my body, perhaps because it’s what I want. However, Cary is slow to push inside of me. Along with him, I watch his rigid length disappear. It’s as glorious as my misaligned expectations of rough sex.
Cary leans toward me. My nails rake his sides, trying to draw him closer.
“Not giving you a chance to forget any longer how good we are together, Holly.” He kisses me and regains his position on his knees, pulling my legs over his shoulders and pistoning his cock into my slick core.
I meet him stroke for stroke. So close himself, Cary’s unrelenting as the second wave of bliss makes the dirty words I reply to his with incoherent. And when I have nothing left, he holds my ass, using it to leverage how deep he spills inside of me.
Grunting, Cary lets go. My legs slide to the mattress and he collapses forward, panting. Neither of us can catch our breaths. He nuzzles my neck. We kiss with reverent touches. I hold him inside of me until we have no choice but to part.
Cary pulls something to wear out of his overnight bag and goes across the hall to the bathroom to clean up.
My eyes have drifted closed by the time he comes back. He pulls the sheet over me but doesn’t get under the covers.
“You okay?” He lies on top, blanketing his body over mine.
“I don’t think I can move a muscle.”
He laughs quietly and kisses me. “You’re stroking my ego, Doll. But I sort of like having you trapped. Means you can’t go anywhere… and I have to leave.”
My brow furrows, but my heart brims when Cary continues.
“I promised someone else a sleepover tonight.” Cary lifts on his elbows.
“Thank you.” I trace the line of Cary’s jaw with my fingernail.
“For what?”
“For making Bhodi feel important. You didn’t have to buy him anything. I could have done that.”
“Both are why I did. The kid means a lot to me, Holly. I’m not taking this lightly. I have to come through for him to have a chance with you and vice versa. Don’t think I’m blind to what I’m taking on—”
I stop his earnest soliloquy with my lips, our tongues meet with velvety sweeps, and the kisses end with little pecks at the corner of one another’s mouths.
My legs have separated and my lower half cradles Cary’s pelvis. We’re not going hot and heavy, but the friction is building. The cocky smirk on his face proves I’m making it harder for Cary to do the right thing. He told Bhodi he’d sleep in the living room. Once more and I’ll share.
________________
The morning noises in the rest of the condo are louder than usual. I get up and walk out of my room, pausing long enough to swipe a clean washcloth over my face in the hallway bathroom.
I can’t see the living room carpet under the forest of sleeping bags, couch cushions, pillows, and blankets. Whatever happened, I missed out on some serious fun while catching some Zs.
Walking into the kitchen, I spy a pajama-clad Bhodi and a shirtless Cary hovering over the waffle iron. They are happily chatting about their upcoming camping trip. Emory, in a princess nightgown, hefts a jug of milk on the table and sets out her favorite jelly jar glasses with cartoon animals on them for us to drink from. My sister’s wearing a blush to go with her matching cotton top and bottoms.
“What?” I mouth, wishing we had telepathy.
