As his words seeped in, the intimation of a history, of arelationship, made her heart swell in her chest to the point of stinging her eyes. “That’s okay.” Her voice came out thick.
He rolled towards her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He studied her, but said nothing. “I’ll make you come again. I’ll make you come so many times you won’t remember your own name.”
She smiled with trembling lips. “No worries.” She slid her hand down over her tummy and between her legs. She needed to come so bad. Nate’s eyes flew open and he made a low, rough sound.
Her fingers slid through the liquid overflowing between her legs, her cream combined with his semen. She was so wet. God.She closed her eyes, rubbed her cream over her clit, throbbing and swollen. She drew in a long breath, which pushed her breasts up, the tips aching, held the air in her lungs while she fingered herself. She felt the beginning of the orgasm, reached for it, let it build, higher and higher. Her thighs fell wider, she breathed in tiny pants, still holding her breath in expanded lungs. Sweetness coiled tighter inside her and then burst, a flare of heat, a shower of sparks through her body, leaving languor and weakness in their wake.
Drifting on a haze of pleasure, she became aware of Nate beside her. She turned her head toward him, opened her eyes and smiled. He watched her intently.
The orgasm relieved some of the tension she’d been feeling all day. Anticipation of the night they were about to spend together—alone—had kept her on edge, arousal and guilt colliding inside her.
But why should she feel guilty? Her husband knew she was here, knew who she was with and knew exactly what they were doing. He approved of it. Could it be considered cheating?
It was just the fact that she and Nate were on their own. This was the first time they’d ever had sex—intercourse—just the two of them. And then they’d both been so overcome by intense sexual need that he’d ripped her panties right off her and she’d had to give herself a fast, hard orgasm. Urgent hunger had temporarily obliterated any thoughts of anyone but the two of them, any emotions besides explosive lust and panting need.
They turned onto their sides and faced each other. Nate cupped the curve of her hip with his hand and she flattened her hand on his chest, felt his heart thudding slow and strong beneath her palm. They lay like that for a long time, just looking at each other.
Krissa reached for his face, stroked his whiskery cheek and jaw with the backs of her fingers, brushed her fingertips across his mouth. His eyes darkened, and his lips parted. She slipped her fingertips inside, stroked across his tongue.
Heat built inside her again, low in her belly. Nate’s handstroked over her hip and thigh, up to her waist, up under her armpit. Shivery tingles swept out from his touch.
“Mmm. Ticklish.”
“No, I’m not.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. Then his fingers darted up under her arm. She squealed and rolled away from him. Laughing, he rolled onto her, pinned her down, both hands delving into her underarms, then her waist. She gasped, laughed, twisted beneath him. “Stop! Stop!”
He stopped. He stared down at her, both of them giddy and breathless, then kissed her. His mouth covered hers, moved over hers, pushed her mouth open to take her in. His tongue stroked, teeth nipped her bottom lip. She kissed him back with everything she had, wrapped her arms around him and one leg, too. She moaned, arched against him, needed him again. “Nate, oh Nate.”
He hardened against her and she had to admire his recovery. They rolled together across the wide bed, mouths fused, bodies joined. Her pussy pulsed with need, thick, heavy, aching need, and she rubbed against him, seeking what she wanted. A groan rumbled from his throat. He fisted his hands in her hair, held her head for his long, drugging kisses. She rolled her hips against him in an instinctive, erotic rhythm until he shoved a hand between them to find his cock and pushed into her.
A long sigh of delight floated out of her mouth as he filled her. He rose up, pushed her knees up and back, opening her wide to him. She gazed down their bodies to where they joined, his thick dark pubic hair meeting her bare pussy. With every down stroke, he touched a tender place deep inside her that was exquisitely sensitive, then dragged out of her against the pull of her pussy on his hard length.
“Sweet, Krissa. So sweet.”
His hands held her beneath her knees, pushed them to her chest as he drove into her. His body gleamed in the lamplight, chiseled muscles, his face dark and tight with desire. She met his thrusts with her own, needing a deeper touch, but witheach push sensation flared from her womb and she cried out. Her fingers twisted in the duvet. Her eyes wanted to close but she kept them focused on Nate, although his image glimmered through a haze of tears.
He released one knee and thumbed her clit, sensitized and swollen.
“I love making you come.” His intense gaze pinned her to the bed, held her captive. “Love making you feel good, baby.”
She could only whimper a response as the magic of his thumb on her clit combined with the rapture his cock provoked in her womb, the two sensations melding into sublime bliss. Pleasure streaked through her body as heat coiled inside her, low, deep, scorching. It flared hotter, higher.
“Come for me, Krissa.” Nate’s tight jaw compressed the words. “Come with me.”
“Yes.” She let go, let herself fly, felt him pour himself inside her in hot, thick pulses. He groaned, held her pussy, pressed into her, and his eyes fell closed. She let her own drift shut, gave herself over to the enchantment torching her body. Her orgasm went on and on, his fingers on her clit drawing it out, her pussy clenching on his cock.
“You tried to distract me earlier, but I’m not going to let it go.”
“Mmm? Let what go?” His drowsy voice vibrated in his chest where her head lay. She played with the fine line of hair just below his navel.
“Why you haven’t seen your parents for two years.”
His body tensed beneath her. She flattened her palm over his lower abdomen, the wiry curls there tickling the edge of her hand. He drew in a slow breath, let it out even slower.
