Jesus.
But despite his delirium, his eyes had been so sad. When he’d been happy enough to start helicoptering his cock for the staff to see, those eyes couldn’t hide shit.
His soul had hurt.
I couldn’t say that I’d healed his soul, but I’d definitely done something—the proof stared back at me, etched in chestnut orbs that flickered with peridot striations, warm with love and happiness andhope.
I brought him peace.
Of course, his dick didn’t agree. And I was more than okay with that compromise. A happy, serene soul and a very hard, very long, very erect boner.
Talk about poetry.
Needing to act on my feelings, I reached down, my fingers finding his zipper. Before I could make my move, he spun me on his lap, twisting me around with an ease that’d never stop being a turn-on.
I pouted when my new position had me staring at the seats opposite us. The only thing that made the loss of eye contactbearable was the access he had to my pulse. When he nibbled on it, tongue laving over the flutter, I felt it soar in real time.
Whining, I trembled as the sensitive area tripped every nerve ending until I was one big bundle of expectation.
When his fingers slipped under my skirt, I groaned when they slid higher still. I only blinked when he tugged my jersey—my signed-by-Donnghal-and-Lewis jersey!—up to my tits. Then, he dragged the neckline of my dress down. Eager digits bared my breasts, popping them free from the cups of my bra, as he toyed with my nipples. Pinching. Squeezing. Playing. Each one timed to a nip of my throat, a suck, a bite, a lick.
“Stan,” I complained around a moan. “I need your cock. You already made me waithours.”
He bit down.
“I want to feel it sliding into me.” I panted. “I want that fullness deep inside.”
He smoothed his tongue over the bite, sucking on it until I knew there’d be a mark tomorrow.
“My pussy needs your dick, baby.”
He sucked.
“Your cock is the only thing that’ll make me feel right,” I wheedled, my words turningmeon as I fidgeted, moving any which way to get friction on his dick so that we shared mutual torment.
When he sucked down harder than before, I suddenly realized his game, his very juvenile game at that. But I loved it all the same.
Once my throat was hickied to the max, one hand went up, the other down. While he was occupied, I touched one of the most sensitive spots, just so I could prod the tender skin.
As always, his marks grounded me.
My eyes fluttered to a close as he shoved my panties aside and, finally, touched me. The direct contact on my clit had me hissing with relief.
Then, deep in my ear, he rumbled, “Luigi has orders to play his music extra loud, but if he hears a single moan of yours, I’ll have to cut off his ears.”
“Not fair!”
“Very fair. His ears depend on your volume,duci. Now, can you be a good girl for me?”
“No,” I moaned, hips bucking as I chased more of his caresses. Then, his other hand clasped my neck.
At first, it was supportive. Especially when he encouraged me to tilt my head to the side as I leaned it against his shoulder.
The muted lights from the tinted windows had the shadows playing with the planes of his face, but I saw just enough to stare straight into his eyes as, thumb rubbing my clit, he thrust two fingers into me.
My brow furrowed at the pleasure he gave me, but it wasn’t enough.
“More.” I whimpered. “I need you, Stan.”
