Calla clenches around me for a third time, less intense than before, but still.
“You like the sound of that? Hm?”
She nods her head into the pillow, fingers creating deep divots in the plush material, her mouth clamped over the corner, staining it with her spit.
“I know you do,” I continue, feeling my climax race towards me, unwilling to be ignored the third time tonight. “I can feel it in the way your body is flexing around me. Milking my cock, begging for my come, begging for me to come inside your tight little pussy—”
“Fuck yes, inside,” Calla moans, a hand stretching back to touch any part of me she can reach. “Come inside me, Blake. I want to fucking feel you.’
I’m helpless but to do as she says, pulling back one last time and then surging forward, grazing that spongy spot inside Calla’s pussy that makes her legs spasm. Balls drawing up, vision whitening, I spill myself with a groan of Calla’s name, fucking up into her mindlessly, drawing out the ecstasy running through my veins until my legs are jelly.
Draping myself over Calla’s back, our bodies still joined, I press featherlight kisses to the ball of her shoulders, the nape of her neck, that sweet spot along her jaw, while my breathing slows back to its normal rhythm.
Eyes closed in bliss, Calla smiles softly, catching my lips with hers and devouring me slowly, as if we have all the time in the world.
I wish we did.
Blinking myself out of my post-come endorphin-rush haze, I flex my arms, pressing myself up and slip out of Calla, biting back the low whine that threatens to escape me.
Flipping onto her back, Calla peers up at me, hands forming into grabby fists. “Help me up, I’ve got pins and needles in my feet.”
I laugh at the seemingly domestic bliss of it all, circling Calla’s delicate wrists to help her land on her feet.
She follows me to the bathroom, taking the clean washcloth I hand her to dampen while I pull off the condom, tying it in a knot and throwing it into the bin.
I turn around to wash my hands, finding Calla sitting on the toilet, emptying her bladder and ensuring she doesn’t get a UTI by the sound of it.
“Sorry, I’ll leave you—”
Calla shakes her head, reaching for the toilet roll and ripping off a wad. “Don’t be so silly. We’ve seen each other naked; you’ve been inside me. Surely, we’re past the embarrassment of watching me wee?”
Flushing, she washes her own hands with a generous dollop of soap, drying them on a spare towel hanging over the shower, before banding her arms around my neck.
“Can I stay the night?”
I reach down to touch her, filling my palms with the curve of her arse, while I dip my head to steal a kiss. “As if I’m going to let you go, sunshine.”
Chapter 18
Calla
Squinting against the harsh buttery sunlight peeking through the crack of the curtains, I blink away the sleep coating my lower lash line. It’s early – too early for a Saturday. The only sound a lone dog barking somewhere in the distance and the chirping of the birds.
Pulling the blanket up to my chin, I close my eyes again, hoping I can drift away for another hour, or two, before I feel something tickle my bare back causing the baby hairs laying upon my neck to stand on edge.
I wait for a heartbeat, my sleep-addled mind unable to follow the pattern, and then flip over, my eyes meeting Blake’s.
“Sorry,” he utters roughly, voice gritty with remnants of sleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I say. “What time is it?”
Blake peers over his shoulder to the analogue clock sitting on his nightstand. “A little after six.”
I burrow my head into my pillow. “Ugh. It’s too early.”
“It might not feel so bad if we weren’t up half the night.” Blake huffs a laugh through his nose, while I gaze at himthrough narrowed eyes, half of my face still smushed into the pillow.
“You started it.”
