By the time he’s fully inside me, his right hand has returned to my legs, pulling them apart more, and I can see his face. Pleasure is etched all over it as he starts to build up a rhythm. He lowers himself down to kiss me. Gone is the tenderness; it’s replaced with more intensity, more passion as he begins to thrust more deeply.
I claw at his back and down his ass, pulling him in more tightly, wanting to feel every inch of his thick throbbing cock obliterate me.
His thrusts gain momentum, as if he’s shifting through the gears. His tongue is more forceful in my mouth, engulfing me with a passion. I move my hand from his ass and begin stroking my cock with the same intensity as his thrusts.
“Don’t come before me,” I say, and his head nods. He spits in his hand and brushes mine away, picking up my strokes with the same intensity.
He stares down at me with his hazel eyes as he glides in and out of me, like waves on an ocean shore. His rhythm is better than any bass guitarist. My balls begin to swell as I feel myself getting close. His eyes widen as my hips lift upward.
“Who’s a bad boy,” he asks, biting his lip as he picks up the rhythm.
He leans back down into me, refusing to slow down his hand movements as my head lifts up to meet his lips. His tongue barrels into my mouth as his cock does the same to my ass.
My back arches upward as I feel myself getting close. I nod at him, and his eyes fill with passion as his hips thrust even faster. His thick cock bounces in and out of my hole, rearranging my insides with each thrust, and as he pounds down one more time, his load explodes deep inside me, just as mine shoots out of my cock.
The warmth of his cum inside me matches the warmth in my chest as my load shoots up on his chin, his T-shirt, and over my vest.
Christopher sighs and pulls out, rolling over as we begin to breath in unison. I reach for his chin, wiping the cum off it before shoving my fingers in my mouth and swallowing it.
“I didn’t have you down as a cannibal.” His hand wipes the sweat from his brow.
“Well, I want your babies and my babies to meet inside of me,” I say, smirking.
“Save some for me,” he says, wiping up the cum from my vest and licking his fingers like a KFC advert.
The light from the moon and stars shines down on us as we take each other in. He pulls me in tightly, his leg sliding over mine. Two people intertwined in this perfect moment. A smile rises on my face.
“What are you smiling at?”
“At the fact that this time a week ago, I was jerking off to you in the shower, and now I’m jerking off over your body, while you blow your load inside me.” My smile turns into a laugh.
“Well, now that I’m your boyfriend, I can help you with that more regularly,” he says, winking as he leans in to kiss me.
My heart skips a beat at the mere mention of the wordboyfriend.
I want to shout it from the rooftop.
“Christopher Foster is my boyfriend!”
Christopher’s hand immediately shoots across to cover my mouth.
“Shush.” But he’s smiling, and he removes his hand and kisses me again.
I catch a person in a window opposite twitching their curtains, but they’re unable to see us from this angle. They pull their window down and draw the fabric across the glass.
No one else seems to hear, and for now, it’s only the moon, the stars, and the nosy neighbor that know I’m in a relationship. Not with Rita Watson, but Christopher Foster.
Friday
Paul woke me up an hour ago, his call pulling me from a deep sleep snuggled in Christopher’s arms, pissed that I left the hotel without him knowing. I can only imagine how much shit Rob got in when Paul found out.
I don’t dare let him know what happened to my wrist, only that I’m safe and that no one has spotted me—the most I could get out between the barrage of words hurled at me.
He asked that I do a live stream to promote the album this morning, but instructed me specifically not to address the Rita news. Christopher leaves me on the roof, heading inside to shower now that Kelly and Daniel have left. They’ve headed to the hotel to check in for their wedding.
“What’s up, Marianne?”
I acknowledge a few fans who are leaving comments, but the messages are flowing so rapidly that I can barely keep up with them. I’ve set myself up so my bandaged hand is holding the phone, to hide the injury, and my other hand pulls at my hood to hide my bed hair.
