“Never heard of him.” I slip my hand under her skirt, my fingertips delving further, snagging on the elastic of her panties, and yanking them to her knees. “Don’t worry. I’ll mark you so he knows you’ve already been claimed. You won’t even have to tell him.” It will be my pleasure. I tap under her thigh. “Lift.”
She obeys, even as her face scrunches in concern. I whip her underwear from her leg, letting it puddle against her other foot, and hook my hand under her thigh to keep it raised when she tries to lower it, leaving her wide open.
“This isn’t what—”
I kiss her to stop the sentence since it isn’t heading in the right direction. Her mouth opens, soft and welcoming compared to the harshness of my touch. I reach between her legs, finding her wet and waiting, spread her lips, and enter her in one smooth stroke, the force lifting her onto her toes.
She gasps against my mouth, and I tease her tongue with mine as I rest inside her, letting her get used to the invasion. Her muscles jump, clenching and releasing around my girth even though I’m not moving.
When I release her mouth, biting the side of her neck as I promised, George whimpers. “Wait. I didn’t come here to have sex with you!”
I laugh into the crook of her shoulder. “Um, hate to break it to you but you maybe left that a bit late.”
Her head tips forward and she grasps my shoulders, caught between pulling me closer and pushing me away. I withdraw a little and thrust forward again, making her moan. In a low voice, I ask, “Do you want me to stop?”
I’m not about to, but it’s polite to make the offer.
From her gasp as I drive into her again, the answer is no,anyway. I press harder against her, lifting her legs so they wrap around my back, using the door as a support.
Her hair is still tied back, and I need to feel it. With a flick of my hand, I pull the elastic free and plunge my fingers into the length, delving into the thickness, then tugging, just enough to make her gasp again.
She bends her head, resting her forehead against my chest. The sight of her tiny form curling around my body makes me feel gargantuan, indestructible. When I pull her head back to gain access to her throat again, I can feel the vibrations of my thrusts echoing across her body.
“You take me so well, little G-G-George,” I murmur, bracing my hand against the wall as I thrust into her so deeply that the head of my cock must be close to bumping against her spine. “It’s like you were made for me.”
And just like that, I’m so close that I have to stop, running my hand farther under her thigh, cupping her arse, reaching around to slide my thumb around where we’re joined, then running higher.
Her foot against my lower back slips as I stroke the sensitive skin around her clit. She clutches a handful of my hair, tugging it in time with the tiny rhythmic strokes.
Then I move my thumb away and she groans, pushing her heel harder against me in protest. My hand drops from the wall to palm her tit, flicking against the nipple, then pinching it, listening to her vocals to determine how hard she can take it.
When I thrust into her again, I go slower, but immediately skate back to the edge. Her tight cunt squeezes me until I can’t stand to hold back again.
George whimpers as I cradle her head to my chest, pumping into her while my orgasm grips me so hard, I feel faint.
The moment I’m spent, regret hits me.
I wanted to coax the same reactions out of her as last time. To make her cry with how good it was, prove the first time wasn’t a fluke. Instead, I’ve left her hanging. Coming on a hair trigger like I’m a virgin who’s never touched a girl before.
She pushes to be let down before I’ve recovered, half slipping as gravity takes its chance while I’m distracted. The moment her feet hit the floor, she stumbles past me, making her way into the bathroom and shutting the door.
I stagger the one and a half steps until I can slump onto the bed and press my hands over my eyes, giving a soft laugh. This isn’t the evening I had planned. I pull some tissues from the holder on my bedside table and wipe myself clean, throwing them in the wastebasket before I tug on grey sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt.
There’s no movement from the bathroom for long enough that I sit up, tilting my head for any noise. I don’t know how long George has been in there already, but I count off another two minutes before rousing enough to rap my knuckles on the door. “You okay in there?”
“Just a second.”
The note of forced cheer takes some of the shine off my contentment. When George shuffles out, her eyes are red, and her breath hitches twice before settling into its usual pattern.
“You don’t have to hide in the bathroom if you want to cry.”
She ignores me for the time it takes to pick her underwear off the floor and tug them on again, smoothing her skirt back into place. I lean off the edge of the bed and snag her hand, pulling her closer, but she shakes me off violently enough I get the message.
“We can’t ever do that again.”
“Why not?” I stand and force a hug onto her. She resists for a moment, then buries her face in my shoulder. Close enough, Ican whisper into her ear, “I know you didn’t finish. Let me help you finish.” But she makes a strangled noise and pushes at me until I let her go. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? It sounded like you enjoyed it.”
“That’s not the point,” she says, stamping her foot.
