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She just had to live with the fact that she had somehow dissolved the pillows between them in the night. Then pressed herself so tightly to his body that she could actually feel thepulse at his throat, thudding away against her cheek. She could feel him breathing, like a great pair of mechanical bellows.
And with almost no good way out of any of it.
Because she couldn’t stay where she was. If she did, he would wake and find her surrounding him like some lusty octopus. But she also couldn’t get away. Or at least, she couldn’t get away without repeating what had just happened. And god, she did not want to repeat what had just happened.
It was still making her tingle ten minutes later.
If it happened again she was almost certainly going to make a sound.
Or worse: what if next time, she simply couldn’t stop? What if she kept going and going, until she actually went ahead and made herself come? No, that was abominable. She couldn’t possibly let such a thing happen. She’d have to arrest herself. Not to mention the fact that he would wake up and be appalled.
She knew he would be.
Even if he also apparently wanted to rut right back at her.
Because he did. He was. She could feel his hips moving. Just a little, but a little felt like so much when what she was talking about was someone slowly working his cock against her hip and belly. It made her flush hot all over; her clit seemed to swell against the small contact it had with him.
And though she tried to stick to staying still, she knew she moved.
Because now it was his turn to stifle a sound.
Only he didn’t stifle it at all. He just full-on groaned in her ear. Followed by words, whole words, oh god, he was saying things right in her ear. “Is this what you want?” he said. And what was she supposed to say?No, that sounds terrible?She’d have sooner asked someone to lop off an arm than go with that.
Because damn, did it feel incredible.
She could make out the exact shape of him now.
How thick he felt, how obviously swollen and slick and oh so much better than she’d imagined. She could almost feel whatit would be like to be fucked by him. To have him working inside her. And doubly so when he slid a hand over the curve of her arse. Like the night before, like he wanted to feel her there. Only better, because he didn’t just stop at a squeeze.
He used that contact to urge her against him.
Slowly, softly, at first. Like a bit of light encouragement.
But then when she couldn’t help letting out a sound, he went further. He worked her over him, in so good and firm a way it made her wild. It made her shake, and squirm, and get so slick she could actually feel it. Everything was suddenly slippery—and of course that only made things better, hotter, sweeter.
Now she was pretty much gliding over that thick muscle.
And it seemed he liked that just as much as she did.
“Oh, you’re wet, you’re so wet,” he groaned.
Then to cap it off, he tugged her harder against him. He practically ground her spread pussy into him—and she didn’t think it was really over his thigh anymore, either. No, it felt more like something else, now, like he’d shifted her and tilted her hips until she was almost right up against his cock.
And that was pretty much all it took. Just the thought of her clit against that big, stiff thing, of him actually using her like that to get himself off—it was enough. It was more than enough. “Oh god, I’m gonna come,” she gasped.
But she didn’t worry about it.
Because he was doing it, too. She knew he was. She felt him go rigid against her and groan loud and long—though even if he hadn’t she would have understood. His cock was so close and so tight to her that it was impossible to miss it swelling and jerking as he went over. As he did it just as hard as her.
Like he didn’t care about anything in that moment.
Not what they’d talked about, not what they’d said no to.
It was just pure pleasure, endless and perfect.
Until said pleasure dissipated, and left them with this:
Heavy breathing, and mess, and what felt like a stunned silence.
