“How do you feel?” I pinched her nipple before setting a hand on her hip. “Don’t move.”
“Full. So fucking full. It’s amazing.” Her words were fading into moans.
“Keep your hands on my shoulders.”
She nodded, her head tipping back, back arching slightly, giving me a better view of her tits that were so full and tempting. I could spend a whole night just playing with them.
If she’d let me.
I started to move my hips, thrusting up into her, holding onto her hips to move her in time with me. She was tight and wet and a little piece of heaven on earth, her tits bouncing with the movements and my name on her lips.
My chest felt as if it was about to explode, my heart swelling as it managed to keep beating while the rest of my body was destroyed by her.
The angle worked, her clit getting enough attention to bring her to orgasm just before I couldn’t hold back anymore. She pulsed around my cock, the sensation enough to yank a cry from my mouth, and then I poured into her, my hands leaving her hips and circling round her back, pulling her against my chest.
My orgasm subsided, the aftershocks calming as I held Jerrica to me, our mouths managing to meet in a kiss that was messy and slow and contained all of the words I didn’t know how to say yet.
“Will you stay the night?” I breathed the question against her hair when our kiss ended.
“Yes. And I’ll wear your T-shirt in the morning.”
I woke in the morning to an empty bed, the sheets next to me still warm and smelling of Jerrica. Summer sun tipped in through the blinds that hadn’t been closed properly the night before, and the sheets were mussed from nighttime movements that they hadn’t seen before.
I usually slept like a corpse, not moving, barely even turning during the night. I didn’t sprawl out because I’d gotten used to sleeping on too many sofas or remaining as quiet and unmoving as possible so no one would notice I was there. When I moved into this house, I bought a super king bed for every room, and in the first couple of weeks of living there, I slept in every one.
When I woke each morning, it was like the sheets had been barely touched. There were no creases to the sheets, no pulled-out fitted sheets. The duvet hardly needed straightening.
Last night and the early hours of this morning had made sure this morning was the polar opposite. Jerrica moved in the night, which I’d already discovered, and we moved in the night, too.
I’d fucked her again when we’d gone upstairs to bed, loosely tying her wrists to the bed posts, telling her how all she had to do was pull a certain way and she’d be free.
She hadn’t even tried, opening up her body for me to plunder, giving her pleasure in the best ways I knew how and finally taking mine after untying her hands so I could feel them on me when I exploded inside her.
We’d woken again just as the dawn was breaking, my body spooning hers, my hand on her breast, like I’d woken when we were in France. I’d been hard, and she’d been wet, whatever touches our sleeping selves had been indulging in leaving a need and a desperation that movements and not words had cured.
She’d moved a hand between us, guiding my hard cock between her legs, angling us so I could get inside her, and somehow, we moved together, still half asleep, until she found her release and I followed with mine.
At some point this morning, I’d need to change the sheets. That was a practicality.
But first, I needed to find where Jerrica was and see if she was wearing my T-shirt and nothing else.
I got out of bed, tempted to take a photo of how messed up the sheets were, and pulled on a pair of sweats that were folded over the chair in the corner of the room. Part of me wondered whether she’d left already and headed back home, leaving me to a morning alone, but the intelligent part, the part where my brain functioned rationally, thought I’d find her in the kitchen, making coffee.
Wearing my T-shirt.
I brushed my teeth and splashed my face with water, aware that my hair was sticking in all directions and I definitely smelled of sex. The latter wasn’t something I was worried about right now. If things went according to plan, I’d be topping up that scent.
My cock hardened as my imagination went wild, thinking about Jerrica being in my kitchen, in just a T-shirt, like I’d said. My heart was going wild too, its beats per minute definitely something that the club’s trainers would be monitoring if they ever became aware of it.
The radio was on in the kitchen, some pop station. I smelled coffee and heard Jerrica singing along with the track that was being played, her voice managing to carry the notes.
I paused at the doorway, watching her dancing round the breakfast bar, my T-shirt hitting her mid-thigh. She froze after about a minute, suddenly aware of my eyes on her, and a smile grew.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” She held up a large mug, something indecent written on it, a secret Santa gift from Jude a couple of Christmases ago. He hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut about who he’d drawn.
“You found one of my T-shirts?” There was no way she hadn’t noticed the bulge in my sweats.
“I did. Coffee? I’m making more.”
