She clears her throat. “I didn’t want to do it just to say I’d done it. I wanted it to mean something,” she says, looking into my eyes.
And the fact that she chose me makes my heart swell with pride and tenderness that make my whole being ache. Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, I pull her in for a kiss.
She kisses me back, parting her mouth softly. I run my hand down the smooth curve of her back, which ends in an ass that fills my palm perfectly. She squirms, moving her hips as she skims her small hands down my body.
Although I want to have her again, I don’t want to hurt her, especially after she told me she was sore. But touching her is too good, feeling her growing excitement too addictive.
I graze my fingers over her ass and the sides of her hips, then brush them over the groove between the cheeks. Her breathing shallows, and her tongue moves more desperately against mine. She brings her hand down and grips my dick.
I groan against her lips. Her fingers feel amazing around my shaft. To reward her, I dip my finger slowly into her, making sure she’s okay. Holy shit, she’s already wet for me. She moans, wordlessly encouraging me. She moves her hand along my cock, her grip a bit too soft and her motions tentative, like she’s afraid of doing too much and hurting me.
Smiling a little, I wrap my hand around hers, then show her exactly how much pressure I like and how fast and hard she can move it. It feels incredible to fist myself with her hand against my bare dick. I slide in another finger into her, then curl it to hit the spot she loved so much last night.
Her back arches, every muscle in her body tensing. She throws her head back, and her hair pours down her shoulders and back like a fiery waterfall. She grips me harder, probably just out of reflex, butJesus. My eyes roll back in my head at the pleasure.
“Like that,” I say, then continue to touch her sensitive spot while I pump into her fist.
She labors to drag in air, the sound ragged and uneven. Her mouth is parted, her eyes closed tight as she chases her orgasm. I want to see her face when she climaxes, but I also don’t want to end the moment too soon, so I increase the tempo of my fingers without touching her clit.
Her grip on me tightens as she moves faster along my cock. I grit my teeth as an orgasm starts to swell.
I’m not coming before her.
Before I can rub the pad of my thumb against her clit, she pants out a taut “Oh my God” and shudders, spasming around my fingers.
Her peak is my undoing. As pleasure twists her gorgeous face, I can’t hold back. My cum hits her hand and belly, marking her. The sight is so hot, I shake, my spent dick twitching again and again.
I wrap my arms around her and make a half-turn, so she’s underneath, and kiss her hard. She puts her clean hand on my cheek and responds eagerly. After a moment, she pulls back with an amused grin.
“What’s so funny?” I say, memorizing every beautiful line of her face.
“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, tired and all?” she says, still smiling. “I read about sex, and you’re supposed to roll over and sleep.”
“Forget what you read about sex. I’m not your average guy. Besides, I already slept, and I’d rather kiss you.” Just then, my belly decides to let out an embarrassingly loud growl.
“Sounds like the only kisses you need are made of chocolate. Come on. I’m actually getting hungry, too.” She frowns slightly. “This sex stuff gives you an appetite.”
I raise myself. “We can’t have that. Why don’t we take a shower and get some breakfast at the Waldorf Astoria? We should be able to get a table at Jean-Georges.”
“We don’t have to go out that far.”
“It’ll be nice. I like their breakfast.” And I want to spoil her. And show her off. Marketta left three dresses, and accessories for all of them. In addition, she gave me some dress shirts and slacks, too. It’d be a shame to let them go to waste.
“Okay,” Aspen says brightly.
I get off the bed and start toward the bathroom, only to stop when she lets out a yelp. “Oh my God!”
“What?” I turn around.
“Your back!” She comes over and looks at my back more closely.
I twist around to see what’s wrong, then catch scratch marks on the mirror on the vanity. I put a hand on her shoulder and shift so I can see them better. She ran her fingers down my back last night, but I didn’t feel anything in particular. But the vivid red marks are stark on my skin.
She covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh myGod. Did I do that?”
“Well, I’m not flexible enough to reach my own back.”
She looks even more devastated. “Did it hurt? Why didn’t you say something?”
