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Her head bobs again as I brace my hands on her hips and thrust deep and hard. When I hear the same cry as before I do it again, dragging my cock back and snapping it forward in rapid succession. Propping a foot on the bed for leverage I increase my pace, pinching and pulling her delicate nerves between my fingers each time our skin slaps together.
Though I can’t feel her slickness on my skin, I can tell she’s dripping by the way my cock moves so easily in her body. It drives me to pump harder, push deeper.
Beads of sweat roll down my chest as I pound into her, our grunts and groans echoing in the room around us as I do my damndest to give her the kind of release she thinks I can offer. One that I selfishly hope will ruin her for other men.
And then I feel it. Her channel gets tight mere seconds before it starts to contract around me, gripping at my length as if trying to pull me deeper. I keep my rhythm steady, pumping through her release until I can no longer hold off my own, and I bury myself deep as her limbs give out and we collapse to the bed in a heap.
My cock twitches inside her as we lay breathless and spent, my mind barely conscious of the need to help support my weight so I don’t crush her.
“Oh wow. I could actually feel you doing a happy dance inside me.” I can barely register Tiff’s muffled voice against the sheets.
“Did you just say happy dance?” I grip the base of the condom to keep it in place as I roll off her.
“Mmm. When you come.” She rolls her head to face me, a glossy, sated look in her eyes. “I feel your cock throbbing inside me. Like a little dance. Twerking.”
“That’s…coming. Not whatever you just called it.”
“Tomato, potato.” She exhales heavily. “Besides, I’m a dancer. How else would I explain what I feel?”
She’s got me there, even if I don’t know what twerking is.
“Was that the good sex, or do you still have more to show me?”
I scrub my hand over my face.I’ve created a monster.“No more sex for you tonight. You need to rest.” I’m expecting an objection, but all I get is a weak sigh. I toss the condom in the trash and climb into bed next to her, tucking her into my side after a short, one-sided internal debate. I figure I’ve only got one night to actually sleep with her, so I might as well make the most of it. And she’s too zonked out to get the wrong idea about sleeping in my arms.
Chapter 18
Tiff
There’sadelicioustinglebetween my legs, deep in my core, when the sunlight streams through the windows the next morning. At first, I think it’s a dream, remnants of the night before playing through my mind. Then I realize there’s a solid wall of warm muscle behind me, and the pleasant ache in my center is real, not imagined.
I rock my hips forward, chasing more of the decadent friction.
“There she is.” Deacon’s voice rumbles in my ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth as his fingers continue their delicate dance on my clit. “I was afraid maybe I fucked you comatose.”
“Why would you think that?” The fog of sleep gives my voice a sultry quality.
His hard cock presses into my back. “Because I’ve been playing with your pussy for damn near ten minutes, and you only just woke up.”
Though my hips continue to seek out his touch, my foggy brain can’t wrap my head around what’s happening. So far, Deacon hasn’t initiated any of the contact between us, and while I’m not complaining that he finally did, I’m more than a little pissed I slept through it.
“You were going to let me sleep through this?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” He slips a finger inside me, pumping it leisurely as he plants open-mouthed kisses on my neck. “But if you woke up to an orgasm would that be so bad?” The arm I’m lying on curves up so he can cover my breast with his hand, and I sigh wantonly as he kneads the plump mound.
“Fuck that’s a pretty sound.” He toys with my nipple as the fingertips of his other hand glide back and forth over my clit. I close my eyes and bask in the pleasure he’s giving me, content to let him do whatever he wants as long as it feels this good.
Wrapped in Deacon’s arms, his hands playing over my body, I feel utterly at peace. It’s a sensation I want to prolong indefinitely, though my body has other ideas.
My pussy starts to clench as I reach the top of the precipice, hips rocking involuntarily as breathless whimpers pass through my lips. It’s here–the peak–and I’m about to tip over the edge.
Suddenly Deacon’s hands are gone, replaced with the painful ache of unfulfilled bliss. “What? Why?” I gasp.
“Need to taste you.” He rolls me to my back and spreads my legs, settling between them so his face is hovering over my core.
He rubs his nose over the top of my mound, and I hear him inhale deeply. Then he spreads me open and flicks the tip of his tongue over my clit. My body lurches up without warning.
“Sensitive this morning.” His finger circles the swollen bud without ever touching it. “Want me to stop?”
