My lips hover next to her ear when I whisper, “Are you going to come again, Siren? Are you gonna milk my cock like that, make me come deep inside your tight little pussy, huh? You wanna make me come hard?” My words seem to spur her on because she moans and starts to move faster, her pussy fluttering around me. I struggle hard to hold back, but I need her to come again first.
Fuck.
She holds the back of my head with her hands, her nails scraping my scalp as her breath shudders, a tremble starting in her thighs. My hand moves from her hip to between us, my thumb rubbing her clit, trying to replicate the rhythm and pressure from earlier. She moans, her body quivering, letting me know I got it right. Her movement falters when her pussy clenches around me, harder this time. “Attagirl, let go, come again for me. Come on my cock.”
Unable to hold back any longer, I pull her down on me by her hips, trying to be as deep as possible inside her when I come. She moans loudly, and I bite the top of her shoulder to muffle my sounds, shuddering, each jolt of release making my hips spasm.
Fuck. I don’t think I have ever come this hard.
We sit there, holding each other. Her heartbeat becomes a sonnet in the quiet hush of our shared breaths.
What is this girl doing to me?
I lay back down on the bed and pull her with me into a kiss. I don’t usually kiss my hookups when I’m done with them, but these lips are addictive, and to be honest, I don’t quite want to be done. There should be at least a round two in this for me after a nap.
Pulling out of her and sitting up, I roll off the condom and toss it into the garbage can next to my bed. It’s nearly full of crumpled notes and condom wrappers.
Fuck, that’s just gross, I need to empty that thing tomorrow.
I should have tidied up the room before I went out tonight to find myself some company, but I was restless, and nothing I tried helped.
Not writing, not watching a movie.
I needed this.
Good old therapy between sheets and some warm thighs. The satisfied look on her beautiful face tells me she needed the same.
Happy to be of service.
She’s turned to her side, her head lying on my pillow, eyes closed, looking like she belongs there.
Even though I do this often, it feels different.
Better not look too deep into that.
Laying down beside her, I tug her close, kissing her forehead and breathing in that coconut scent. Her palms come to rest on my chest.
I bet she can feel how rapidly my heart is still beating.
“I can leave,” she mumbles, but her eyes are closed.
“Nope,” I reply with a yawn, pulling her closer before draping the covers over us. “That would mean I’d have to get up toobecause I wouldn’t let you walk alone in the dark at this hour. And I’m not gentlemanly enough to do that.”
THREE
The stairs creakloudly despite my attempt to tread down them quietly, but they’re old, making it impossible. The house is beautiful. Old, yes, but well-maintained, exuding a rustic charm. From what I saw, it’s sparsely decorated but clean.
Homey. I like it.
When I finally reach the ground floor, I hastily gather my wild hair into a messy bun, feeling a surge of confidence about sneaking out unnoticed. But just as I’m about to make my escape, a deep voice halts me in my tracks. “Good morning.”
I turn toward the source of the voice on my right, revealing a spacious modern kitchen with a dark wood dining table in its center. Seated at the table is a small boy, maybe five or six, looking at me shyly, but the voice came from the man standing behind the boy, his large hands resting on the back of the child’s chair.
He’s at least six foot three, a big guy with a hint of muscles beneath a layer of softness. He has to be around my age, but it’s hard to say with his bushy beard and his brown hair in a tousled mess on his head. He has beautiful, kind eyes and smiles at me, his expression tinged with amusement. “Do you want some coffee before you go? You look like you had a rough night.”
I blush, my gaze involuntarily dropping to the pink apron he’s wearing. Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help but find it comical that this bear of a man is wearing something so…pink.
Nervously, I wring my hands, offering an apology, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he had a partner. If it helps, we were both pretty drunk last night.”
