It was too much. It was not enough. It was everything.
Beau thrust again, harder.
Black spots danced in my vision as my body tensed, ready to explode again.
“Fucking perfect for me, Hannah.” He upped his tempo.
My body submitted, wholly and completely to his thrusts, the angle of my hips making each piston of his hips mind-bending, almost too much to take.
Almost.
Beau slammed in once more, even harder, and his thumb settled right on my clit. I cried out again, this one not muffled. I screamed Beau’s name as I toppled into nothingness, bursts of pleasure sending me out of my own body into nirvana.
Beau kept pumping into me, in rhythm with the shockwaves of sensation running through me.
He let out a strangled grunt, a growl low in his chest, and then he pulled out. My orgasm was winding down, my body twitching with aftershocks, but I instantaneously felt empty at the loss of him.
Then he was jerking his cock, and warm spurts of his cum covered my heaving chest. The vision was erotic, impossibly dirty in the best way. I arched my back to give him more access to my skin.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he moaned, still pumping.
My lips stretched into a smile.
Who knew that having the man I nanny for come on my tits would be the best moment of my life?
“We didn’t use protection.” I was staring at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
It was something I should’ve discussed the first time. Or the second. Or the third.
Was that how many times we’d had sex already? We’d both been greedy, desperate to explore every inch of the other’s skin, to release the pent-up tension that had been months in the making.
After the first time, I’d been utterly spent, covered in Beau’s cum. He’d leaned down, laid a sweet kiss on my lips. We both tasted of sweat and sex.
“You are fucking glorious,” he’d growled against my mouth.
Then he’d left, going to the bathroom for a wet washcloth to clean me. But he hadn’t done it right away. He’d hovered over me, staring at me greedily as I was bathed in the dim light coming from his bathroom.
“I need a minute,” he murmured, fisting the washcloth in his hands. “I need to commit this to memory, Hannah fucking Morgan, tangled in my sheets, well fucked, covered in my cum.”
My body hummed at the energy in his words, the force in his stare. I felt like a piece of art that someone was relishing. There was no need to move, to cover myself.
I just let Beau look.
It was an erotic act in and of itself, sending a burst of dopamine through my system.
Then he slowly cleaned himself off me, surprising me by lifting me into his arms once he was done.
My hands slung around his neck with ease, but I was not yet over the novelty of Beau touching me like that. Naked.
“I’m thinking we need a shower.’” His beard nuzzled into me as he walked us in the direction of the bathroom.
Who was I to disagree?
And even though I’d truly lost count of the orgasms I’d had and had just engaged in the best sex anyone had ever had on planet Earth, my body didn’t feel sated. I needed more of Beau. Needed to continue to feel him inside me, to fully process that this was happening.
And a not small part of me was deathly afraid that the sun would rise and this … spell would break. That the harsh light of day would tear away whatever magic created tonight.
If that were the case, I greedily wanted Beau as many times as he was physically able.
