“We fucked at what? Three, four o’clock this morning? I’m plenty prepped. Fuck me into the mattress, baby.”
Shaking my head at his filthy mouth, I line up and sink into him in one glorious motion. He lets out a pained cry, tipping his head back and arching up to meet me. I pause, making sure I’ve not genuinely hurt him, and he relaxes back against the pillow, looking at me with those fuck-me eyes I secretly love.
“Are you going to fuck me, or are you going to look at me?”
I lean in and shut his troublesome mouth with mine while I crank my hips back and drive them forward. Slow on the uptake, fast on the release, jackhammering him just like he requested.
He wraps his legs around me, thrusting against me with his powerful hips and legs.
I lean down on my forearm, my face close to his as we hammer away at each other in perfect synchronicity. He holds me with his powerful grip, and my dick has never had it so good. Once again, he slows us down, so that every thrust has meaning, and I undulate my hips enough to make his mouth open, silent as his eyes continue to bore into mine, and I know I’m hitting him right where he needs it.
We speed back up with that little scooping hip action, and within moments his entire body stiffens as he arches up, finally bringing his hand to his cock, thrusting in and out of his tight grip, and a long spurt of cum lands on his collarbones and again on his chest and belly.
Maybe it’s the intense way he’s squeezing my cock, or the look in his eyes, so completely lost to passion it’s a gift, but I punch forward with my hips and explode, my body shaking as I pump out through the glorious dying star. I twitch inside him as aftershocks rock me for several minutes.
Hell, I might have blacked out for a second.
I pinch the condom and pull out, then flop backward on the bed next to him, breathing as though I’ve run a marathon. Smiling, I let my fingers drift to his belly, idly drawing shapes in his cum.
“It’s too bad we’re not any good at that,” he says, his sarcastic East Texas drawl so fucking sexy I could be convinced to go another round.
I’m not even looking at him and I know there’s a shit-eating grin on his face. I roll my eyes and make my way to the bathroom, tossing the condom and running a soft washcloth under warm water.
I run the wrung-out cloth across his gorgeous body, finding tattoos I haven’t yet had time to explore.
“Nap?” he asks, holding out his arm.
I snuggle into his embrace, allowing myself to be held by sunshine and childlike joy. “Dayeb feek,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
“What’s that mean?” he asks, stroking my hair.
“Not sure it has a direct translation. It means I’m a boneless pile of goo.”
That I melt into you.
He pulls me in more closely, letting his fingers sweep from my chest up to my neck and back down again. In broken, mostly terrible Arabic, his response roughly translates, “Me too. You’re my hope.”
The word for hope that he uses,ameli, refers to the support of a loved one, and it is deeply romantic. I don’t know that he means to use such a serious word, but then he gently touches my jaw and I look up, finding a serious expression as if he’s making sure I caught his meaning. That there was no confusion.
“Do you trust me?” he says, still in broken Arabic, grabbing my hand.
“I don’t know,” I respond in English, smiling. “Will you stop torturing me?”
He lightly grazes my nipple with his fingernail, and I arch into the sensation. “Depends.”
“On what?” I ask, a little breathless.
He leans in, kissing me senseless. “On whether or not you’re willing to do that to me again.”
I turn my face into his armpit and inhale deeply, nudging my nose into the sensitive skin. I’m rewarded with goose bumps all over his chest and a sharp inhale. “Mmm, yes. And one of these days, I’ll let you win a wrestling match and give you the same opportunity.”
“Let? Oh, it’s on.”
His fingers tickle along my ribs, and I nearly arch off the bed, twisting to get away from his searching fingers.
“You’re ticklish?” he asks, wonder sparking in his eyes and his tone.
I bite my lips together and hide my face in the pillow, shaking my head as I curl away from him. It doesn’t work and he pounces, holding me with one arm across my chest as the other hand finds the sensitive areas on my ribs and groin and inner thigh.
