He sits up suddenly, one arm wrapping around my lower back, pressing us chest to chest, my tits against his pecs, my face inches from his. He thrusts up into me from this angle, short deep strokes that grind against my clit, and I grab his hair and pull his head back and bite his neck, tasting salt on his skin.
His hips snap up hard and the thrust hits that spot and I moan against his throat, long and loud and completely shameless. His arm tightens around me, holding me against him while he fucks up into me, and I’m riding him and he’s driving up and my moans are filling the room, getting louder with every stroke, and I can feel another orgasm building already, coiling tight and hot.
“My turn,” he says as he rolls us.
My back hits the mattress and the headboard cracks against the wall. He’s above me, between my thighs, still inside me, and the first full stroke from this angle hits so deep I grab the sheets with both fists and cry out.
He pins my hand to the mattress, fingers lacing through mine, and uses the leverage to drive into me deep and hard, the headboard hitting the wall in a steady rhythm.
“Yes,” I gasp, my free hand clutching his back, my hips rising to meet every thrust. “Yes, God, right there.”
He knows I’m close. He can feel it in the way my walls are fluttering, the way my thighs are shaking, the way I’ve given up trying to be quiet and I’m just moaning with every breath, a steady stream ofyesandpleaseand his name.
“One more,” he says, his thumb pressing into my clit again. “Give me one more.”
“Don’t tell me what to...” But my body has stopped consulting me because the orgasm is crashing through me like a freight train. My walls seize around him, my body arches off the bed, and his name tears out of me so loud it rings off the walls.
He fucks me through it, his hips never slowing, driving into me while I clench and shake around him. The aftershocks roll through me in waves and he groans, his whole body tensing as my pussy pulses around his cock.
His rhythm stutters, his breathing going ragged against my neck and I know he’s close. Through the haze of aftershocks twocoherent thoughts break through: one, that I cannot walk into that pharmacy again, and two, that I really need to start keeping condoms in my bedside drawer.
“Not inside,” I gasp, pushing at his shoulder even though my pussy is clenching around him like it has other ideas. “I can’t do the pharmacy walk of shame twice in one week.”
He lets out a strained laugh against my neck. “Where then?” he manages, his voice rough and desperate.
“My tits,” I breathe, pushing my breasts together. “Come on my tits, Dominic.”
The groan that tears out of him is guttural, and he pulls out and moves up my body until he’s straddling my ribcage, his thick cock slick with me and flushed dark. He slides between my breasts and I press them tight around his shaft.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his head dropping forward as he starts to move, thrusting between my tits while I hold them tight around his cock. The slick slide of him, the way his abs flex with every stroke, the head of his cock pushing up toward my chin on every thrust, and I’m already feeling like I could come again just from watching him.
“You like that?” I ask, looking up at him, insanely turned on myself, and squeeze my breasts tighter against his cock as he pumps between them. His whole body shudders.
“You have no fucking idea,” he grits out, his hips snapping faster, his hands bracing on the headboard above me. I arch my back, pressing my breasts tighter together and his eyes find mine, dark and hungry, holding my gaze as he fucks my tits. “Brooke,” he groans, his rhythm getting erratic, his thighs tensing against my sides. “Fuck, I’m close.”
“Please,” I beg, and I’m surprised to find I mean it. How desperate I am for it. “Give it to me. I want it. I want to feel you come all over me.”
His jaw goes slack and his whole body tenses, his cock pulsing between my breasts as he comes with a groan that rumbles through his chest. Hot streaks land across my tits, my collarbone, my neck, and I hold him there, squeezing tight, watching his face as he falls apart above me.
He stays there for a moment, breathing hard, looking down at me covered in him, and the expression on his face could make me come all over again.
Then he collapses beside me, one arm flung over his eyes, chest heaving. The bed is a disaster. Sheets twisted, pillow on the floor, two fresh dent marks in the wall that I have absolutely no way of explaining to my landlord.
Neither of us speaks for a few minutes. I stare at the ceiling and focus on breathing and absolutelynotthinking about how that was even better than the gym.
“That was...” he starts after a long silence, handing me a tissue.
“A mistake,” I finish, wiping his cum off my tits.
“I was going to sayathletic.”
I snort despite myself, an actual snort, which is mortifying, but he huffs out something dangerously close to a laugh and I’m too wrung out to care about dignity.
“It was that too,” I concede.
He drops his arm from his eyes and turns his head to look at me. I can feel his gaze but I keep staring at the ceiling because looking at him right now, while we’re both naked and sweaty and his cum is leaking out of me onto my very expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, feels like it might crack something open that I’m not equipped to deal with.
“So,” he says.
