“Fucking beautiful,” I groaned as he sank two fingers in his hole.
Grabbing the lube, I coated my cock, jacking myself off in time with his movements until I couldn’t take anymore. I smacked his ass. “My turn.”
The tiny whine of frustration he’d made while stretching himself morphed into a long, low moan, and his head dropped forward, hanging between his shoulders when I replaced hisfingers with my own. I pressed in deep, fucking his hole open, adding a second and third finger as he loosened.
“Jesus fuck. Fuck me already,” he pleaded when I twisted my fingers inside him, rubbing over his prostate for a third time.
I chuckled, moved him into position.
“You’re an asshole,” he groaned as I pressed gently, sliding into him in one long, slow thrust.
“Yes. I. Am.” Each word punctuated with a thrust to his prostate.
I kept up the punishing pace, speeding up and slowing down. Switching from brutal to gentle, I rode him until he keened.
“Please. Dear fucking God. I need to come.”
Gripping his curls, I pulled his head back until his body bowed. I leaned over him, still railing his ass, and I whispered, “Do it. Come for me, gorgeous.”
He reached for his dick, and I growled, “No hands. You chose my cock. You’ll come with only my cock.”
He groaned, his hand smacking my hair-covered thigh, pulling me into him, his nails buried in the muscle.
Pressing my free hand to the small of his back, I forced him into a deeper arch. My cock dragged over the bundle of nerves deep inside him as I slowly moved in and out of him, making sure he felt every inch I gave him.
The chorus of sounds that came from him turned to guttural curses, then screams as his body seized up, his ass milking my cock as he came. His orgasm triggered my own. I fell over him, gasping for breath as I came back to earth.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
“GIVE IT A DAMN REST! YOU’VE GONE AT IT ALL DAMN NIGHT!”
“IT’S SIX A.M., ASSHOLES!”
Our eyes met. Smiles broke free. Laughter ensued—raucous belly laughs that set the neighbors off on another round of beating, banging, and yelling.
“Shower?”
“Breakfast?”
Our questions blended as we spoke simultaneously. I leaned in, kissing him softly.
“Yes,” we whispered together, lips brushing.
This man was nothing like what I pictured a CIA agent to be. He was sexy, funny, and fan-fucking-tastic in bed.
He stood, pulled me to my feet, wrapped his arms around my waist, taking my mouth with his.
Fuck me. His kisses intoxicated me.
He pushed me away, smacking my ass. “I knew you were trouble. Get the shower started…”
“Water conservation is extremely important,” I said with a fake pout.
“I’m going to start the oven and put a breakfast casserole in.”
I nodded, walked toward the shower, then turned around. “You cook?”
