“Same,” I say, taking the sweet and sour sauce and using it on the last bit of my stir-fry.
C licks peanut sauce from the corner of his mouth. “It’s fantastic,” he says, looking at Zoe. “Put a couple tablespoons of that sauce aside. I want it for later.”
“We need it for the dish,” Zoe says, attempting to add more to her plate, which already has plenty. He catches her wrist to stop her, and her flushed cheeks darken.
“You heard me,” he says in a low voice.
She nibbles her lip as she gets up, clearly unable to resist the dominance in his voice.
I suspect everyone at the table is imagining the same thing. C painting Zoe’s private parts with that blazingly hot sauce. I can imagine too how the sting might make a girl writhe and beg for mercy. I shift in my seat, my pussy clenching as I picture my legs splayed and Sasha between them.
When I glance up, I find Sasha’s eyes on me. My face heats, and I look down, studying my food.
Trick stands, taking his dish and his glass. “Great dinner,” he says as he leaves the dining room.
A moment later, Sasha stands too, signaling me to join him. I collect our dishes, and my glass. I set the dishes in the sink and reach for the pitcher of sangria, but Sasha stops me.
“After,” he says, pulling me by the hand.
“After?” I murmur.
He leads me into the guest room where we slept the night I came back. I stiffen slightly when I think of that night. There isn’t much time to think though because he reaches under my dress and slides my panties all way down. He unzips his trousers and frees his cock, which is hard and ready. I gasp as he lifts me.
“Put me inside you,” he orders.
I guide him to my entrance. He presses me against the wall and thrusts into me. I gasp again, gripping his shoulders. He’s so deep that there’s a pinching pain.
“Sasha—”
“Mmm,” he says, exhaling. “You’re so wet. Is this what you want?”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, raising myself slightly. He grips my buttocks, and my calves dangle, my back pressed against the wall. His body flexes and contracts, his muscles hard under my fingers. This is different than when I ride him. There’s more tension, and less control for me. I hold on as he uses me. It feels good. I love how big and strong he is.
“A little slower. Please,” I whisper.
He changes his angle, grinding against my clit.
“Oh, God,” I whisper. “Just like that. Please don’t stop.”
He backs up until he bumps into the bed and sits on the edge. He jerks my dress up and over my head and unhooks my bra. I writhe from side to side, grinding and bouncing, impatient to come. One hand grips my buttocks, steadying me as I rise and fall.
I muffle my moans against his flesh. The ripples of pleasure are sharp and so delicious.
His arm wraps around my waist, and he turns and crawls onto the bed, lowering me onto my back. Then he thrusts harder and faster. I grip his arms. It’s so intense, and another orgasm builds and slams into the first. He comes inside me, groaning and straining.
After, he drops onto his back, and I curl up against him. His arm closes around me.
“I love the way it feels,” I whisper. “I didn’t expect it to feel so good every time. Zoe—” I realize I’m rambling, so I stop.
“What?” he murmurs.
I shrug. “Nothing really. Just girl talk.”
“I want to hear.”
“Awhile back, she told me it isn’t always good. She said with one guy it was even a little boring sometimes.”
He nods, resting his free forearm behind his head.
