Her smile grows. “Want to bang someone in your t-shirt?”
“I really do. You look so sexy in it.” Isn’t it every guy’s wet dream?
She stands in front of me and points to my shirt. “Want a hand with that?”
I love how no bullshit she is, how practical, and how impatient she is to get me naked. I love how considerate she is, heroffer to help doesn’t feel out of pity or because she doesn’t think I can do it myself. “I’m good with the shirt.” I grip the back of the collar and glide it over my head. “But I could use a hand with the tracksuit bottoms.”
She almost looks elated that I’ve asked her for help, making my stomach dip. I maneuver myself back against the headboard, and she tugs off my sweats and underwear as I do. There’s no time or space for apprehension or anxiety, there’s no room for overthinking or second guessing, but it’s also not frenzied and rushed like it was in The Rusty Anchor what feels like a lifetime ago.
It’s slow, it’s intentional, it’s really happening.
I’m ass naked in front of someone other than the mirror. I don’t remember the last time that happened. It took me a long while to even wear shorts around my friends and family after my accident because I was so self-conscious about my leg.
It was like a beacon: a blinding, shameful reminder to the world that I’d tried to kill myself. And yet here I am, sitting on my bed with a beautiful woman standing in front of me wearing nothing but my t-shirt. And I’m so hard I might dishonor both of us and blow my load before we’ve even laid a finger on each other.
Rhiannon hums. When I look at her face, her gaze is locked onto my cock. There’s a bead of precum sliding down the crown, and the woman fucking hums. How did I get so lucky?
“I’m on the pill and haven’t had sex in a while. Before you, I mean.” She announces it like she’s telling me what the options for dinner are. “Like… a long while. But my last screening was clear.”
I also can’t remember the last time I had sex before the fateful day in The Anchor. My heating face must say it all because she simply nods, kneels on the bed, and straddles my thighs. She cups my face again, with both hands and a gentlenessthat makes my heart throb before she plants a kiss on my lips. “I’m fine going bare if you are.”
“Fuck.” I drop my forehead to hers. My cock’s pulsing, it’s painfully hard, and I grit my teeth because if I don’t, I really may embarrass myself. “You’re going to be the death of me. I’m never going to last now, Rhi-Bird.”
She giggles, wiggling her hips. “Then at least you’ll die satisfied, right?” She lifts up her hips, but I grip her.
“Do you need lube?”
This laugh is different. She’s definitely laughingatme, and she’s laughing so hard that tears spring into her eyes almost immediately. She takes my hand and shoves it between her legs. “You tell me. Do I need lubrication, Robert?”
“Fuuuuuuck.” No, she doesn’t. She’s soaking wet, slick, warm, and so fucking soft. “I think you’ll be okay.” I grind my words out because, as a thirty-two-year-old man, I should be able to better control the need to orgasm. But she’s driving me wild, her sexy as hell body, the way she’s so comfortable with herself and with me, it’s a powerful turn-on that makes it really hard. Literally and figuratively.
“I might not last long at this rate, Rhiannon. Fucking hell.”
She moves her hips, riding my fingers so they brush against her clit. She tips her head back, her hair free of the pins that made it hard to spear my fingers into it at the ball. Her cheeks are flushed, and the moans slipping out from between those sinful lips should be X-rated noises.
I can’t take it anymore. When I move my hand, she gasps then licks her lips. Gripping her hips, I pick her up and hold her right over my cock. She stares at my biceps, biting her bottom lip before pressing her hands flat against my chest and lowering herself onto me.
Her core strength is impressive, but I have less than afraction of a second to think about it because she’s already sliding leisurely down my length.
My balls are tight and heavy, and by the time she’s fully seated, I’m blowing a slow hiss out from between my teeth. Fuck. She’s so tight and hot and soft and wet. This, right here, is how I die. Balls deep in a beautiful woman, ready to embarrass myself by prematurely ejaculating.
It’s been so long I’ll probably stick her to the ceiling with so much cum it’ll be like a fucking firehose. I can’t hold back the chuckle in my chest.
“What?”
“I was just thinking… Have you ever seen a fire hydrant?”
She nods, pinching her brows together like she’s not sure where this is going.
I tip my forehead to hers. “I haven’t come in weeks. I was imagining you getting shot up to the ceiling when I come.”
Her lips press together in an amused smile as her body shakes. “You didn’t…” She makes a jerking movement with her fist. “In Croatia?”
I shake my head. “Was afraid you’d walk in and find me, think I was some pervert who couldn’t control himself around you.”
She purses her lips. “Huh. I got off every fucking day on our fake honeymoon.”
My jaw falls open.
