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“Goddamnit, you’re fucking perfect.”
Wrapping my arms under her, I pull her up with me until I’m sitting back on my heels and she’s balanced on my lap, impaled by my cock.
Maddie lets out a squeal, circling her arms around my neck, and I move my hands under her ass. Bouncing her up and down.
“Touch that clit. Be a good girl and rub that little clit. Make yourself come.”
Without hesitation, Maddie snakes one hand down between us. Her eyes close and her head tips back and I can feel the tips of her fingers bump into the base of my dick.
Slamming her down onto my lap, I thrust my hips up, and she lets out another cry. This one sounds laced with pain, and I start to worry, but then she starts to shake. Her body slipping into her second orgasm.
“Deep…” the arm around my neck holds me tightly to her body. “So deep!” she cries as her words turn unintelligible.
My grip on her ass turns bruising as I bounce her twice more. Then I do exactly what my girl begged for, and I fill her with my cum.
Chapter41
Maddie
White foam splashesacross my chest.
“Oh crap!” I jump back, holding the whipped cream canister away from my body.
Leslie snickers, handing me a towel. “Nice one, Boss.”
Grimacing, I take the cloth and wipe at the mess.
“This is precisely why I should keep a spare set of clothes in my office,” I grumble.
She nods her agreement, taking out a new canister from the fridge below the counter. “Not a bad idea. Especially if you’re gonna Jackson Pollock yourself.”
I snort and nod for her to take over the mocha I was preparing.
Heading over to the sink, I wet a paper towel and dab at my coral cotton shirt. The whipped cream is easily removed, only now I’m left with a big wet spot on my boobs.
“Great,” I sigh.
Leslie hands off the drink and shuffles back to where I’m standing.
“Is something different? You seem extra…” she tilts her head, “happy?”
I can’t stop the grin that pulls across my face. “I am.”
She waggles her eyebrows, “Who is he?”
There’s a tug in my lower belly at the thought ofhim.“He’s… new.”
I’m still not sure what to call him. I think he’s my boyfriend. I’m pretty sure. But that word seems so silly in reference to the oversized older man that shared my bed Friday and Saturday night.
My fingers reach up to brush across my cheek, where Axel kissed me when he woke up yesterday.
It was early. Too early. And he told me not to get up, that just because he had to go home to get some stuff done didn’t mean I had to rise at the crack of dawn too. But I didn’t want to sleep through him leaving. Couldn’t bear the idea, actually. So, feeling incredibly needy, I insisted on making him a cup of coffee first.
I stretched out the process and gave him my favorite BeanBag travel mug to use. Part of me knew I was being clingy, giving him something that I’d want back. But the other part of me didn’t care, knowing I’d do all sorts of underhanded tactics to keep Axel in my life.
“Hmm,” Leslie makes a knowing sound.
She’s old enough to be my mother, and her strong maternal presence has my blush revving into overdrive.
