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Unable to wait another second, I settle on top of her.
It occurs to me that we should probably use a condom. I made sure to shove a few in my wallet after last time but as I stare into her gorgeous eyes, I realize that I don’t want to. There’s no way I can fuck her with a thin layer separating us.
I need her bare.
Just like before.
I hold perfectly still and grit out the question. “Are you good if I don’t wear anything?”
“Yeah, I’m protected.”
Thank fuck. If she wanted me to suit up, I would. I’d rather screw her with a condom than not at all. But there’s something about being inside her without anything that feels so damn good. It adds another layer of intimacy to the act that I never anticipated.
She’s the only one I’d do this with.
Just like last time, there’s no preamble. I drive inside her tight heat with one smooth stroke. A tortured groan escapes from my lips as I squeeze my eyes closed, relishing the delicious feeling, wanting to somehow stretch it out and make it last forever.
If I thought the first time we had sex was some kind of strange anomaly, I quickly realize that’s not the case. This girl has a unicorn pussy. That’s the only plausible explanation. The way her inner muscles clench makes it feel like I’m moments away from blowing my load.
And there’s no damn way—
Fuck.
Before I realize it, I’m going off like a shot.
Cum erupts from me as I force my eyes open and stare into hers. As soon as I do, her pussy clenches as her own orgasm takes hold and we come together. The way she moans out my name makes my release even more intense. She milks my dick until there’s nothing left to give. When my muscles finally slacken, I hold myself up on my elbows and stare down at her, marveling at the bond that continues to strengthen between us, binding us together.
The thought that bothers me most in this moment of blissed-out introspection is how I’ll get enough of her to last me for the rest of my life.
The uncomfortable silence that follows that question is nothing short of deafening.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carina
Ford’s fingers absently play with mine as we drive to Crawford’s house for our usual Wednesday night dinner. He’s been toying with them ever since he pulled out of the apartment building parking lot.
And I’ve let him because I love it.
As soon as that sly thought sneaks into my brain, I wince.
I don’t want to get used to the way he touches me.
Or come to expect it.
Only to be disappointed when he moves on.
Ever since last Thursday, he’s been sneaking over after Juliette hits the sheets and staying the night.
We have sex. The first time is always quick and dirty.
Mr. playboy manwhore who has slept with his share of the co-eds on this campus can’t seem to control himself. The only reason I don’t tease him mercilessly is because no matter how fast he orgasms, I always come as if on command.
It’s demoralizing.
Afterward, he’ll huff out a breath and rest his forehead against mine before apologizing, muttering something about how he doesn’t understand why he isn’t able to last longer and how unusual this is.
Ha! Whatever you say, quick draw McGraw.
