I swallow and make myself sound as normal as I can when I ask, “Wanna come over?”
She slips her hand in mine, squeezes, and whispers, “I’d love to.”
I don’t remember the drive home.
I don’t know if I take Sweet Pea out for one last potty when I get there.
Doesn’t matter. I’m finally alone with Goldie.
Pushing her seventy-five layers of shirts and undershirts off. Helping her shove my shirt over my head.
Dropping my pants and tripping on them while I try to kick off my shoes at the same time.
Goldie’s jeans join mine in the hallway from the living room to my bedroom.
She’s in a red lace bra and a matching thong, and once again, I have no idea how I’m going to survive the hard-on straining thick and heavy at the very sight of her.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
Plump breasts. Curvy hips. Long legs. Pink stain on her porcelain cheeks. A ring of gold around her dilated pupils. Breath coming fast. Arms reaching for me. Lips parted.
I want this every night.
I wantherevery night.
I don’t know if she kisses me or if I kiss her. If she jumps up into my arms or if I pull her up. How I’m moving with her legs wrapped around my hips and her honeypot rubbing against my cock, the lace of her thong adding an element of sensation against my bare stick that makes me almost come on the spot.
But I make it to the bedroom still vertical.
I’ve been picking up my clothes since she’s started staying over, so it’s a straight shot to the bed without tripping over anything. I toss her onto the mattress, slide down her body, strip her of her thong, and feast on her pussy until she’s screaming my name with her hands gripping my ears.
And then I suit up with a condom, and I slide into her.
This.
Home.
“Oh my god, Fletcher, more,” she gasps like she didn’t just come all over my face.
Like she’s not on bottom when she keeps insisting on being on top.
Like she’s not leaving me in four days.
I slam into her, my body as tight as a string, desperate for more.
More Goldie.
More of her pussy.
More of her laughter.
More of her hand squeezes.
More of her kisses.
More of all of her.
I can’t get deep enough. I can’t show her hard enough how much she means to me.
