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My eyes widen. His lips curve up, just a tiny bit.
He points at the bed.
“All right,” I mutter, and I climb on.
“Not like that,” he says as I go to lie on the pillows. “I want your head at the edge.”
Puzzled, I turn so I’m lying on my back, my head at the edge of the bed.
“Back an inch,” he says, looking down at me. I shuffle back. “Bit more,” he says.
I move back so my head is just hanging over the edge of the bed. He comes to stand over me, and I look up to see him stroking himself before he leans forward on the bed and moves the tip of his erection to my lips.
Oh my.
I open my mouth and take him inside, and he purrs and says, “Good girl. You’re going to let me fuck your mouth now, nice and deep. And I want you to touch yourself while I do it.” He moves my hand between my legs.
I slide my fingers into my folds, finding them swollen and wet after he went down on me. As I circle the pad of my forefinger over my clit, he pushes his hips forward, sinking into my mouth.
Oh jeez, this is hot, and I moan around him, my fingers moving through my folds as he slowly thrusts. The angle I’m at means he can go nice and deep, and soon my mouth is wet, and he’s giving deep sighs every time I brush my tongue across him.
He gives a deep, guttural groan, then pulls out and leans on the bed, looking at me upside down.
“Yum,” I say, and lick my lips.
He mutters something unintelligible, then says, “Up you get. On all fours, facing the pillows.”
I do as he says, my heart hammering as he climbs onto the bed between my legs, and I feel him press the tip of his erection into my folds. Gently, he pushes forward, and I gasp as he sinks into me, so deep from this direction.
Oooh, that feels good. My hands tighten into fists, and I shudder as he begins to thrust, setting up a fast pace and driving into me, filling the air with the slap of his hips against my butt. Leaning over me, he fills his hands with my breasts, and I drop down onto my elbows and lower a hand between my legs, an ache growing inside me again, even though I only came a short while ago.
I circle my fingers over my clit, and he says, “Yeah, make yourself come for me,” his husky instruction turning me on almost as much as the fact that he’s sliding inside me. I suck my bottom lip and concentrate on the growing sensations inside me, then shudder and clench around him as my orgasm hits, squealing and crying out his name as he continues to pound into me, riding me all the way through it.
When I’m done, he waits a moment, stroking my back, then slowly withdraws, leaving me feeling empty and disappointed that he hasn’t come.
It doesn’t last long. He puts a hand flat on my back and pushes me forward so I fall onto my tummy. I bounce and go, “Oof,” but I have no time to recover, because he’s pushing up my knee, positioning himself against me again, and then he’s inside me, right up to the hilt in one easy thrust.
“Oh…” I bury my face in the pillow, groaning as he lowers down on top of me, pressing me into the mattress.
“No rest for the wicked, Alice,” he teases as he begins to thrust. “And you’re very wicked.”
“I wasn’t,” I mumble, clutching at the pillow, “until I met you.”
He gives a throaty chuckle, then starts moving with purpose. One of his hands snakes under me and starts playing with my nipple, and I bite my bottom lip as my body begins to stir again. Not another orgasm. I can’t stand it. I’ll melt into a puddle, and he’ll have to scoop me up into a bucket.
But he’s obviously not going to stop, and all I can do is hold on for dear life as he lifts up onto his hands to give himself a better angle and plunges down into me.
Dear God, the guy’s unstoppable. We’ve had sex enough times that I can tell how turned on he is, but he’s clearly decided he’s not going to come yet. He thrusts and thrusts, until the room grows warm and we’re both covered in sweat, until I’m panting and groaning, and then I come again, clenching around him, before collapsing into the pillows in a shivering, shaking mass.
“Come on, Alice,” he teases, withdrawing and smacking my backside before rolling over and getting up. He tugs my hand, and I grumble but let him pull me up.
“Mercy,” I mumble, but he just laughs and moves me over to the window. Picking me up easily, he wraps my legs around his waist, then presses me up against the glass as he sinks inside me again. It’s cold on my skin and I gasp, but all he does is take advantage of my open mouth to dip his tongue inside.
Sinking my hands into his hair, I kiss him, sliding my tongue against his, determined now to drive him to the edge, and he groans and begins to thrust. Oh, I like this, up against the window, his big strong hands holding me up. I tell him, murmuring against his lips how much I like it.
“I knew you would,” he says back, his voice now tinged with that huskiness that makes me shiver. “You were made for sex, baby. Made for me.”
It’s not at all an appropriate thing to say considering we both know it’s our last time, but he likes making possessive statements, and I’m not about to berate him right now, when my body’s throbbing with need, so wet and swollen from all my orgasms that it’s practically humming.
