“Just take,” I say, before I do it for him, taking my tits and pushing them together around his dick. “Do what you want. You don’t have to ask. I’ll let you know if I don’t like it.” He groans, thrusting slowly, relishing the sight and the feeling while I watch the slack handsomeness of his face, mouth agape, hair in his face, the golden glow of his torso with the tattoos and the flex in his abs. The luxury yacht metaphor still holds, because this is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever been with.
“You’re gorgeous,” he tells me, mirroring my sentiments and filling me with a warmth I don’t usually feel from partners, certainly not Mike. He pulls back and deliberately and solidly settles his hips between my legs, finally listening to me and taking for himself.
He holds himself by the base and taps my clit with his dick a few times before sliding down and pushing in and in and in andinand splitting me in half.
We let out twin expletives, some variation ofholy fucking shitandyou feel amazing/tight/huge. I’m swollen from all my previous orgasms (are we at three?) and it certainly feels that way when he finally (finally, because it seemed never ending) seats himself to the hilt. He stays there, letting me adjust, and I think I whimper, and some sort of thing or feeling or emotion flows through us as we look at one another with our faces inches apart, breathing each other’s air.
I know that we’re already naked, but I feel like I’m stripped bare.
But then he moves.
He fucks like he carries himself. Meticulous. Self-assured. Sensuous, steady, in his pace and the power of his thrusts, making sure every one counts, that his dick drags in just the right place at just the right speed with the right amount of pressure.
“Wow,” I manage against his lips.
He laughs, overjoyed, truly thrilled, and I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun having sex.
Dom won’t stop watching my face, attuned to the micro movements and inadvertent tells of my body, taking notes, collecting data, making small adjustments as needed, and it’s frankly extremely overwhelming and I find myself embarrassingly close to coming again after just a few minutes, but he knows that already, obviously, and is already moving a hand down to press on my clit with his thumb.
He changes his angle, tilting my hips and holding my thighs up by his waist and rising up on his knees and really starting to move.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
“Fuck,” he manages. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching the lean lines of his body move into mine. “I’m close. You feel incredible.”
“What happened to the blow job?”
“It worked, because I would’ve come already if you hadn’t done it.” He’s panting. “But you just feel too good. So fucking delicious.”
“Fuck me harder, then. Give it to me,” I beg, and he does, skin slapping aggressively into mine. “Make it hurt,” I’m soon demanding, and heunleashes, his mouth in a half-snarl, and his face, that loss of control on this normally composed and gentle man is what does it for me, and I feel it building from my core, sparkling and exploding out to my fingers and toes until I scream, digging my nails into his forearms.
But not for long, because he tears out of me, and I’m empty and my pussy is clenching around nothing for half a second before I’m manhandled, flipped over so I’m on my hands and knees. He slams into me while yanking me back, so hard I feel it in my throat, giving my spasming pussy something to grip onto again, and one, two, three, four,five, and then he’s pulling out and I hear him snapping the condom off and then there’s a groan and he’s coming all over my ass and back.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Andthenhe slaps my ass and collapses the full weight of his body onto mine, and I’m laughing and he’s laughing and that was thefucking best.
* * *
We meet for one last time on our patio.
This time, I fuck him on the lounge chair after he bends me over the railing.
FOURTEEN
Dominic
I wakewith the first signs of dawn creeping through the darkness, hearing the ocean beyond the glass at our feet, still wrapped around Lina like a tentacle monster.
I take a minute or two to enjoy the feeling of her lush body in mine, her ass firmly nestled into my crotch, my arm under her neck, my other hand curved around the soft flesh of her stomach, our legs tangled together. It’s been years since I’ve had sex, yes, but it’s been even longer than that since I’ve actually cuddled with someone. I bury my face in her soft curls. Luxuriate.
I give myself another minute or two to replay every single moment from last night. The feeling of her wet warmth around my fingers, my tongue, my dick. The look on her face when she came, the shocked ecstasy when she squirted all over my face. The tiny movements, the twitches of her body, the slackening of her mouth, the tightening around my cock, that told me when she liked something I was doing.
I get hard again obviously, and I’m about to spend the next minute or two debating whether I should wake her up with sex, if that’s too presumptuous, or if I should just untangle myself and go make us some coffee—when she speaks aloud into the room.
“I can feel you thinking about whether or not you should fuck me,” she says.
“Yep,” I admit.
“I thought I told you to take for yourself,” she says, wiggling her bare ass around on my cock until the tip rests against the entrance of her shockingly damp pussy. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I’m glad she can’t see my face because that probably wasn’t pretty.
