Amber raises herself on one hand, still rubbing her soaked clit, stroking herself as I fill her cunt over and over. Her headfalls back, arching her perfect body, and I thread a hand into her hair, tugging gently as she moans. My other hand finds her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between my fingers.
“Come for me, Amber, come for me,” I gasp, and it only takes a few more strokes of her fingers and my dick before she cries out, going still before her whole body shudders. Her long, loud moan fills the room as her pussy clenches my cock inside her.
The fire in my nerves turns into an inferno, and with a few more jerks of my hips, I pull out of her with a groan, jerking my soaked cock with my hand. But Amber turns around, eagerly, almost clumsily falling to the bed, and wrapping her lips around me. I roar as she sucks hard, her tongue swirling around my tip.
“Fuck,fuck,” I gasp. “Amber. Ohfuck.”
And I explode. I dig my hands into her hair, and she’s swallowing, squeezing every drop of my release from me, my hips still jerking as I fuck her mouth. I slump forward, trying to catch my breath, sweat beading on the back of my neck, and on my face, and Amber releases me with a pop. She falls onto the bed, on her side, her chest pounding, her cheeks red.
I fall down in front of her, and she nestles against me, her forehead to my chest, and I wrap my arms around her.
We must fall asleep like that, because the next time I open my eyes, it’s dark, and we’re still entangled with each other. I kiss the top of Amber’s head, and drift back off to sleep.
This is heaven.
This is bliss.
How the fuck am I meant to let this girl go?
5
SUNDAY MORNING
Dawn is just breakingas I open my eyes, and I look down at Amber, who is still sound asleep and nestled in my arms. I want to stay in bed with her until she wakes up, but my damn arm is cramping.
Stupid old man body.
I carefully move out from under her, trying not to wake her, and grit my teeth as my muscles spasm from lying in the same position all night. I go to the bathroom, feeling rested but weirdly hungover, like I drank just a bit too much last night even though I didn’t touch a drop.
My stomach grumbles loudly, hardly surprising since I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.
Amber is stirring when I get back to the bedroom, and she stretches her arms over her head, eyes fluttering sleepily as they land on me. She smiles indulgently, and sighs.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes. “We really passed out, huh?”
“Yes we did.” I lean over her to plant a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll go get some coffee on, and start on breakfast.”
Amber wraps her arms around my neck and moans low in her throat. “Mmmm, you’re the perfect man, do you know that?” She kisses me again, and releases me with another deeply satisfied sigh. “I’ll be right down.”
“Take your time, honey.” I pull on my sweatpants and pick up my phone before heading downstairs.
When I get to the kitchen, I flip on the light, and when I unlock my phone, the screen is lit up with notifications, most of them from Laurie.
Shit, shit, shit.
I send her a quick text, because I know she’s still asleep, making some half-baked excuse about working on my thesis and ignoring my phone. My guilty conscience screams at me that everyone somehow knows what I’ve really been doing, that my phone has been hacked and all the videos of me fucking Amber in my bed are now doing the rounds on social media. Everyone already knows what a perverted old man I am. It’s ridiculous, but paranoia will do that to you. It fucking sucks.
The coffee machine bubbles away softly as I swipe the screen on my phone to open the picture I took of Amber yesterday. There she is, straddling me, her head thrown back, that tiny cropped tee revealing just enough of her perfect tits to have my erection growing.
I go to the videos, to the one showing Amber’s pink and swollen pussy swallowing my cock. My erection does more than grow, and I rub myself through the sweats with a soft groan.
Put it away and make some breakfast, you over-sexed pervert.
I plug the phone into the charger on my counter and go to the fridge to pull out the ingredients for a breakfast feast. My stomach protests even louder now I’m actually looking at the food. I’m starving.
Soft footsteps pad into the kitchen, and I look over my shoulder to see Amber walk in. She’s got to be tempting me for more, the way she walks around barely dressed. She’s wearing a tiny pair of white shorts that barely cover her ass, and another cropped tee, neon pink this time, that slouches off her shoulder. Her hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head, and she looks heavenly and tousled.
“I hope you’re hungry because I am cooking every egg I have in my possession,” I say, dumping everything out on the counter.
