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“You still want this?” he asks, perhaps sensing my hesitation. If only he knew the real reason behind me trying to hold back.
“More than anything right now,” I say, and run my fingers up and down his string biceps.
“Me too.”
He lowers his lips to mine, and kisses me with the intensity of a thousand stars. I encircle my arms around his neck, and on his tongue I taste my own scent. It feels tangy, and bright, and in his mouth, incredible. I don’t know if I’d taste differently if it weren’t by his lips. I don’t want to know—right now, anything that’s not from him doesn’t interest me.
We’re caught in this powerful rhythm, our tongues mingling, then fighting for dominance, and when either of us thinks the other will concede, we just wrestle with more determination. His cock is pulsing at my entrance, the thick head rubbing against my flesh as we shift in each other’s arms.
Flashes of passion run through me, and a heady sensation captures me. I wrap my legs around him, coaxing his body to enter mine, silently demanding, pleading, begging for him to take me. I’ve never been this drenching wet, this aroused before.
“Christ.” He thrusts inside me, and we both moan together, lips parted, eyes slightly widened at the exhilarating sensation of connecting at last.
For a moment, an ache stirs inside me, and I take a long deep breath to accommodate him. My inner walls cling to every inch of him, in a glorious, shameless, intimate embrace. Damn. There’s a powerful pulse between us, I can feel it in my sex. I can feel it in his. It’s also all around me, skittering my pulse.
I am so attuned to every response of my body to him, big and small. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating and completely addictive.
“You have the most delicious, tightest pussy,” he says. “Fuck.”
I moan, a long winded sounded I can barely recognize. Whatever it is, he likes it, because he starts to move in and out of me, deeper, his big cock retreating halfway only to slam all the way in again. Each time he does that, pressure builds inside me. My breath catches in my throat, my breasts rising and falling with each thrust, my heart about to gallop from my chest.
“Yes. Oh, Maddox, I’m. So. Close—”
He needs no further encouraging.
Groaning, he fucks me harder, amplifying all these crazy hot signals my body is darting at me, until I can no longer take it, and the pressure building explodes, and so do I. I am shivering, my body jerking, my cream squirting out of me and onto his cock.
My body is hot, slick with sweat, spent.
He then withdraws all the way out and rams into me one last time. This is the deepest that he’s ever been, and I feel him buried so deep inside me, that the end tail of my orgasm leads to a new baby one, and I moan, my lips trembling, a fresh coat of cream slicking my folds.
With a growl, he comes, pushing his head back and forth, spilling his hot load inside me. Filling me up. When he’s done, we’re still quivering, entangled.
He rolls to the side and takes me with him, and kisses the top of my head. I sigh, and wonder if I’ve ever felt so complete in my whole entire life.
11
Maddox
I embraceher tightly against me, then pull the sheet over us. Our bodies are entangled, and she’s resting her head on my shoulder, her hand hovering on my chest and making little invisible patterns around my nipples.
Her phone buzzes at the distance, but she doesn’t move an inch.
“Do you need to get that?”
“No. It’s Astrid probably reminding me of a place I need stop by later,” she says, and kisses my shoulder. A small gesture that only enhances this amplified intimate post-sex bliss. “Or asking where I’ve been.”
I kiss the top of her head, and tendrils of relief course through me. I don’t want to let her go. Is it strange that now I get what she meant by saying she wanted to make the most of our time together? It’s not enough. Feels like whatever time I have with her, it’ll never be enough. Unless—
She hums, the sweet sound yanking me from my thoughts. “I don’t think I can move anytime soon, anyway.”
Pride swells in my chest, my male ego nicely massaged. I don’t want to move either, mainly because I don’t want to break the contact of our bodies, the warmth oozing from her. I usually am not the guy who likes to stick around for pillow talk or whatnot, but the idea of parting from her is like a dark emotion settling in my chest.
I take a moment to look at my surroundings. When we got in, I barely register her lovely home, but now I have more time, so I scan her large bedroom.
A hint of old Hollywood glamour is present on the furniture, the art on the walls, the colors—a mix of silver, off-white and gray. But it’s not over the top, it’s tasteful and serene.
Almost as serene as I feel right now. If someone asked me to sign my life away now would probably be the right time.
