“Like what?” I ask. I want to hear it. Javi grins and grips my hips, the muscles in his arms flexing.
“Sitting on my cock,” he says. “Does it feel as good as it looks?”
“Better, probably.”
“You do like getting fucked after you’ve already come once,” he says, rocking up into me. I push back, my hands on his chest. A small moan escapes me. He moves a hand up to pinch one nipple, and now I bite my lip, close my eyes, roll my hips against him. He’s still fully seated inside me, and I can feel every millimeter he moves. “You beautiful, greedy thing.”
“Greedy,” I say, and I sound all throaty and breathless. “Just because I want more?”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
I’m still grinding on him, slowly. I half want to keep doing this forever, staying on this maddening plateau that feels good but isn’t going to make me come. I wonder how long I could do this, whether I’d eventually lose my mind.
But I also remember going back out into Ben’s living room and trying to watchFury Roadlike I wasn’t squirming at the memory of Javi’s voice in my ear.
“I can be greedy,” I say and grab the vibrator I pulled out. It’s pretty no-frills—basically a vibrating silicone cylinder—and I turn it on low. I brace myself against Javi’s chest, put it against my clit, and hold as still as I can.
It doesn’t take me long at all to come again. I force my eyes open so I can look him. I don’t say anything, just breathe and gasp and moan.
“Jesus, I felt that,” Javi says, his hands spanning my thighs, fingers digging in, his blunt nails white-hot pinpricks that send a thrill up my spine. “Is it good, Madeline?”
“Yeah,” I get out and squirm a little, then clench down. Javi’s mouth opens and a broken groan comes out. “But it was only two.”
“You want more?” He tries to tilt his hips up into me. I push down on his sternum a little harder, his heartbeat wild under my palm.
“Hold still, I’m busy.” I turn the vibrator up a notch and put it back on my clit with a gasp. Javi takes his hands off my thighs and goes up onto his elbows to watch, his face flushed, his gaze practically tangible. His hair’s stuck to his forehead and there’s sweat beading on his chest.
“Come on, come on, come on.” He’s murmuring filthy nonsense. “God, you love this—fuckinghell, Jesus, fuck, Madeline.”
This time, I don’t take the vibe off my clit; I just turn it up and hope it’s got fresh batteries. By the time I come again there’s a bead of sweat rolling down his sternum and Javi looks drunk, his breathing harsh and uneven. He’s up on one elbow, his other hand on my thigh again, murmuring a stream off sweet-sounding filth.
Finally his eyes close and his head tilts back, the lines of his neck stark and beautiful.
“Please,” he gasps and pushes himself up to his hands. We’re nearly face-to-face. “Madeline, please.”
I take his face between my hands and kiss him, dropping the vibrator somewhere into the sheets. “I can’t take much more,” he mumbles into my mouth. “You’re using your cunt as a torture device.”
I’m unsteady, even shaking a little. Or maybe that’s him. Fuck, I can’t even tell any more.
“Should I stop?” I ask.
“No!” he says and swallows. “No, please. Just—have some mercy.”
I grab the vibe again, turn it all the way up, and shove it right up against my clit. I’m half numb and half oversensitive, but this time I rock against him while I get myself off, and Javi shudders in relief.
I don’t come hard, but I come with our foreheads together and Javi murmuring “Fuck, yeah, there it is—I love how goodthis makes you feel”and then we’re kissing and I’m shaky and he’s pulling us backward until he can lean against the headboard of my bed, hands back on my hips. I brace myself with one hand and clench and roll my hips, close my eyes against the little shockwaves it sends through my body.
“That’ssogood,” he says. “Jesus. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper, a purely automatic reflex, and it’s kind of dumb but— “I wish you didn’t have to go home.”
“There’s tomorrow,” he gets out.
I push against the headboard and move my hips harder, rutting into him. He groans. I think his hands might be shaking.
“To Sprucevale, I mean. I wish you weren’t so far.”
Javi’s eyes are glazed, and he’s a flushed, sweaty mess and maybe the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
