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My balls draw up impossibly more, my dick jerking. Hands-free, I pulse and pulse, shooting ropes of cum all over the pillow.
I’m vaguely aware of Nolan baring his teeth between my cheeks, his beard digging into the soft, sensitive skin. His groans and growls increase tenfold, and I feel him stiffen, jolt, freeze—
He lets out a long, deep, body-tingling groan I feel more than hear, just as something hot and wet splashes my ass.
The reverberations send chills racing up my spine, and little aftershocks that have my cock twitching, dribbling out more cum.
Oh God.
My arm gives out. Pretty sure I collapse.
Somehow I don’t smother Nolan. He easily scoots out from under me, pulling my finger gently from my hole. He pats my ass, and I drop in a heap on my side, careful to avoid the pillow I just came all over.
Panting heavily, I crack my eyes open just as Nolan crashes down next to me, his green eyes wide with shock. He swallows hard, then his gaze drifts to the side, to where there’s a giant wet spot on the pillow between us.
He reaches out, touching it with his fingers almost like he’s never seen jizz before.
My mouth kicks up in a sleepy smile.
His gaze cuts to mine, and I can’t help but notice how wrecked he looks. Temples damp with sweat. Cheeks flushed. Beard glistening.
His lips shine too, darker and fuller than I’ve ever seen them.
My tongue pokes out between my teeth. His eyes drop, a furrow forming between his brows.
“The cleaning crew is gonna hate you,” I mutter.
He snaps his gaze back to mine.
I roll my lips together, and I can’t help it—I giggle.
His eyes widen, and for a second I think he might be freaking out. Like it’s finally just hitting him what we did.
Uh oh.
But then he pounces, crashing on top of me—well, half on top of me. I might’ve forgotten about my injuries, but he clearly hasn’t.
Big, calloused hands find my wrists, slamming them into the bed next to my head.
He looks down at me with a fierce, wild look about him, tangled hair falling around his face, the ends teasing my cheeks. Our faces are inches apart, chests heaving and brushing every time we inhale.
The scratchy hair on his chest rubs against my nipple, and I squirm, feeling his spent, sticky cock squished against my thigh.
“What in the hell was that?” he says in a rough voice filled with wonder.
“I don’t know,” I say breathlessly.
His gaze drops to where my lips stretch out. I can’t stop smiling.
His face bunches and he nods. “Okay then.”
The words are spoken softly, almost like they’re not meant for me.
Before I can ask what it means, he pulls back abruptly.
“What—”
Reaching down he grabs my hand, yanking me up. My mouth opens—fear momentarily rising to the surface when I think he might be getting rid of me—but before I can so much as get a syllable out, he picks me up, hauling me over his shoulder.
