I was rewarded when she gushed, her whole body shaking as she rode out her orgasm on my awaiting lips.
I lapped up every last bit of her, her breathing still ragged as I slowly stood up.
Unbuckling my jeans, I met her heated gaze. Her face flushed from the orgasms, and a lazy smile was on her face. “Lay down,” I said as I stood and kissed her hard.
Pulling a foil packet out of my wallet, I tossed the rest of it aside, not caring that my jeans were at my ankles and my shirt still on.
I just needed to fill Tessa. She spread her legs for me to kneel between them as I rolled the rubber over my cock, I slid closer, letting just the head press against her pussy.
She moaned, immediately spreading her legs further for me.
“What if I said it was time to close the bar and I needed to head home?” I asked, stroking the base of my cock as I locked eyes with her.
She bolted upright, sitting up and gripping my shoulders. “Wyatt, if you don’t fuck me right now, I may combust.”
I laughed, putting one arm around her waist and pulling her flush against me, the head of my cock seeking out her entrance.
“Okay, okay, I guess I can give you what you want.”
I sealed my words by kissing her, putting everything into it that I couldn’t say out loud.
I wanted to tell her that my time with her had been the best I ever had.
How I loved not just the taste of her and fucking her but being with her.
I filled her slowly, but my girl was always greedy. She gripped my ass, filling her to the hilt as if she couldn’t get enough.
Our bodies moved together, the music still streaming around us as our heavy breathing matched its rhythm.
I knew I was close, but couldn’t end it without feeling her come on my cock again.
Sliding my hand between us, I found her clit, still continuing my thrusts.
“Fuck, Wyatt,” she murmured, gripping onto my shoulders as her body shook around me.
It didn’t take long for her to moan, pulsing as we came together, her beautiful pussy milking my cock.
I didn’t stop until I knew she released every last drop, and then I slumped down, my legs like gelatine as I leaned on her for support, leaving small kisses along her bare shoulders.
She lay against me, cheek pressed to my chest, listening to my heartbeat like she was memorizing it. My hand traced slow, grounding lines along her back, felt the rise and fall of her breath gradually even out. The quiet settled around us again, deeper now, weighted with something neither of us could pretend wasn’t real.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” she said eventually.
“I know.”
“It doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
She lifted her head, looked at me like she needed to see whether I’d changed my mind. “Then why does it feel like I can breathe again?”
“Because you let yourself. Not because of me.”
She considered that, then nodded like she’d accept it for now.
We dressed slowly. Not awkward. Not rushed. The kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. When she finally stepped back, there was something resolved in her posture that hadn’t been there before.
“I can’t do this again.”
