“Yes, fuck yes,” he groaned. “Do it again. Squeeze my cock.”
His cock, she thought, pulling at him hard, wanting to leave an imprint of herself, a mark as indelible as the others on his body. More indelible because she’d get rid of the tattoos. But this… She squeezed him, letting her hand take in the contours of his…his cock. This she wanted him to remember.
“Your cock.”
“Mmm?”
“What do you call this?” she asked, running a hand lightly over her sex.
“Your pussy,” he said.
She grimaced. “I don’t like that.”
His eyes roamed her face and narrowed with dawning understanding. “All right. Your cunt.”
Pleasure sparked deep and low in her body. “That’s a bad word,” she said, half teasing.
“But not a bad thing.”
“My…cunt?” She ran a hand over herself again, dipping in to show him her explorations.
“Fuck, George. You’re killin’ me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not meaning it one bit.
“Get a condom.” Andrew’s words came out as an order. She let him go just long enough to obey. “Put it on me,” he said, and she got wetter from the roughness of his words, the ragged quality of his voice.
It took too long to open the drawer, pull out the box, and struggle with the cardboard. Too long for Andrew, apparently, because in a flash, he was up and on her, grabbing it from her hands and tearing it open, sending little packets everywhere. A giggle formed in George’s throat when he finished rolling it on and pulled her onto his lap, but it caught there as the blunt head of him sought her out, rubbing once, twice against her, until it found her opening and sank in, one inexorable inch at a time. Slow, slow, painfully slow, but good, better than anything she’d felt in a lifetime. A million lifetimes. Better than the night before—more explicit and real, less of a dream.
He’d gotten inside her, all the way, with her on his lap, stretched around him, too full to move. Not just her…cunt, but her throat and her chest, where emotion swelled. A tear rolled down George’s face—a rogue bit of love or something equally mushy. She wiped it, fast, so he couldn’t see it, and went to lift herself up, but he grasped her hips and held her still.
“Don’t. Don’t, baby. I can’t…” He finished on a groan, an uncontrollable, dark, desperate sound that made her want to move even more, swallowed up by desire.
She lifted up, her thighs trembling with the effort, but it was so worth it when his hands bit into her hips, fingers hard points seared into her body. Every slide up, every inch back down was a slow, smooth glide, gorged with sensation.
“You…you don’t fucking know, do you?” he asked, and indeed, she had no idea.
Another slide up, and one of his hands shifted to her butt and slammed her back down too hard, wrenching a gasp from her lungs. Again he brought her up, fast and furious, and down, leading the dance, his rhythm so much more vigorous than hers, a piston to counter her caresses. And that speed, that power, pushed her toward climax unexpectedly, brought her close, so close she almost wanted to stop him—almost, but not quite. Because who in their right mind would say no to an orgasm like the one his body promised?
It was the slap on her ass, though, that pushed her, groaning, over the edge. Sharp and stinging and reminiscent of that long-ago screening of Secretary, it sent her mind elsewhere, while her body convulsed and pulsed around his cock, the orgasm inescapable.
Andrew’s hard gasps warmed George’s face before he kissed her, ate at her, consumed her again, and left her nothing, nothing but the quivering shell of a woman satisfied.
It wasn’t until she came back down, collapsed over Andrew’s lap, that she realized he was still inside her and very much not finished.
Do whatever you want, she thought, and then she said the words, which led to a breathless, eager-sounding, “Yeah?”
“Within reason.” She laughed, and he joined in weakly.
“I wanna do everything to you right now, George. I mean everything. I want to fuck you everywhere and…shit. I’m not usually out of control like this.”
“No?” George answered, feeling light-headed from the possibilities. Lust. The man lusted after her. How crazy was that? “Well, pick one.”
His laughter moved him in her, and she tightened unconsciously around him, drawing a helpless, crazed-sounding moan from his lips. She’d move again, she’d just decided, when he pulled out and tapped her hip. “Lie down. I wanna…” He didn’t finish, but she knew what she wanted right now. She wanted to see his face while he came. She wanted to see how lost he’d look, and thankfully, there was just enough moonlight to give her that.
* * *
George lay pale and ghostlike against her sheets, her body strong and very much alive. He settled between her thighs, wanting—no needing—to get back inside her, where everything was right in the world.
