She tilts her head back to give me better access. "We should stop."
I suck on the spot between her collarbones, marking her as mine. A mark that will take days to fade. "We should."
"Just once," she whispers. "De-stress. To get it out of our systems." She stands and pulls at her dress.
Just once. Like, will once be enough. But if once is all I get, I'll take it.
"Just once." I stand, hold her, we kiss softly, she turns, and I unzip her dress. "Then I'm making it count."
The dress slides off her shoulders and pools at her feet. Liz has nothing on except a matching lace bra, and the whole world slides to a stop around us.
I've imagined this. Fantasized about it more times than I should admit. But reality is so much better than anything my imagination conjured.
She's curves and soft skin, and I want to worship every inch of her. With my hands, mouth, tongue, and cock. "You're so fucking beautiful, Liz. Do you know that?"
For the next few seconds, we peel clothes off until we're standing naked, about to cross the final line. I should really start counting the reasons this is a bad idea, but that requires more fucks than I'm willing to give.
Right now, I'm on the verge of going mad with desire.
Crushing my mouth to hers, I lift her off her feet, and we tumble onto the bed. I unclasp her bra, and my mouth moves over her, trailing kisses along her chest. When I reach her breast, I drag my tongue along the nipple and suck on the taut bud. My cock twitches when I hear her moan. My free hand goes to the other tit, squeezing and kneading, rolling the nipple between my fingers. She groans and writhes. Her breasts and sensitive nipples obviously ignite her passions, big time. I can't get enough of hearing and seeing her pleasure. This is a whole new Liz for me. The sexual Liz.
She's already digging her ass into the mattress, but I still take my sweet time exploring, teasing, and caressing her.
I hover over her, watching her eyes at half-mast, her skin flushed, her freckles more prominent across her cheeks.
"Ready for me?"
Liz just nods.
Without breaking eye contact, I wrap a hand along my length and wedge my tip at her entrance. Slowly, I push inside, hissing at how wet, hot, and tight she feels. I stop, retreat, pause, and start again, just an inch. Inch by inch, teasing her walls wider with each thrust.
Fuck, I can feel the tingling at the base of my spine, so I stop and breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Control. I need some sense of control so I don't embarrass myself or disappoint her. I take it easy.
I want this to last, want to remember every second.
"Jesus, Liz. You feel—" I can't finish the sentence. Can't think past how good this feels, and how right.
Her hands grip my shoulders, nails digging in. "Move. Please, Dean. Move. I'm dying here."
That's what I do. I move inside her, slow at first, hips rolling, building rhythm. The moment I feel like I'm not about to come with my next movement, I increase the pace. I lower my mouth to her tit again and suck while my hips rut in short spasms, then thrust harder with more intent.
Liz, even with her limited movements, meets me thrust for thrust, and the sounds—skin on skin, our ragged breathing, her moaning my name—fill the room.
The headboard hits the wall. Again and again. We'll probably have complaints from the guest next door. Right now, though, I don't give a fuck.
Liz wraps her legs around me, her heels dig into my back, and she moves her hips upward while I thrust downward.
"That's it, Liz. Take me deeper."
I look down at where we're joined, and it's the most erotic thing I've ever seen. I thought my fantasies about her were filthy enough, but those don't even compare to the real thing.
Everything about this has exceeded my expectations.
With a growl, I lift her legs and toss them over my shoulders, giving me a chance to go deeper at a different angle. Her face is beet-red, fists clutching the bedsheets, as she snaps her eyes shut.
"Open your eyes. Watch me as I pound into your pussy."
"Dean…"
