‘About ten inches.’
Paisley giggles, and it’s thebestsound—the best fucking sound. Second only to Sorcha’s mirth.
‘You’re nuts, you know that?’
‘I’m aware,’ I growl into the soft skin of her neck. Licking, teasing, bringing her hands above her head. ‘I must be nuts not to have had you here before. Fucked you here in my bed.’
‘Is that so?’ She stretches out like a content cat.
‘Aye. This might be the first time, but it isn’t the last.’ My head is filled with filthy images, causing me to grind my hips into her. But my words? They’re the truth. Fridays aren’t enough and never will be again. I’m not sure how or why, but I need more of her. More of this—more fucking. More skin. More kisses and cuddles. More getting to know her. ‘I’m going to fuck you here in my bed. Then maybe in the shower. Maybe in the pool.’
‘I hope it’s not outdoors,’ she muses.
‘Then the kitchen. I’ll push your palms flat on the table, then I’ll stand between your legs and finger you until you’re dripping.’
‘Fingering is so underrated,’ she agrees all breathily, following the path of my gaze down our joined bodies. ‘Oh, my. That is so hot,’ she says, staring at the wet head of my cock, the rest of me nestled between her perfect pink lips.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ I can’t help my grin. The sight of me between her legs. The way her eyes have darkened. The way she doesn’t move her hands. ‘It’s all perfect. Picture fucking perfect. It makes me wish I had my phone.’
‘Do it,’ she whispers urgently. ‘Do it.’ It takes me a moment to realise she’s answering my lust-spilled words. ‘Use my phone, only don’t stop talking. Keep saying dirty things to me.’
This girl. This girl right here? She’s fucking perfect.
Her nightstand is nearer—it wasn’t hers before, but it is now—and her phone lies there encased in a glittery pink case. I feel the loss of her immediately as I reach for it, snagging it from the nightstand, and repositioning myself.
‘You really should have a passcode on this,’ I tell her as I open her phone.
‘Later. Now talk—we were in the kitchen.’
‘So we were.’
Click.I take a photo of the length of my cock framed by her slick lips.
‘I’ll finger you until we can both hear how wet you are.’ I spread her thighs impossibly wide, lining myself up against her pussy.
Click.My head, wet and glistening, balanced against her wetness.
‘Yes! How much I need you.’
Click.Paisley’s hands on her tits, rosy nipples peeking between splayed fingertips.
‘Your pussy slippery and wet, your thighs coated in your own cum, I’ll shove my cock inside you so hard the table will be shunted across the room.’
Click.Her body accepting me as I slide myself home.
‘Oh, God!’
The phone abandoned to the mattress, her feet locked around my backs of my thighs, her long lashes closed and almost caressing her cheekbones.How did I not notice how long her lashes were?I rock into her, my muscles locked tight, my body’s instinctual responses screaming in my need to rut. To fuck. But this moment is different. More somehow. I don’t want it to end. This girl in my bed? Right now, she’s all I can think of. It’s like an obsession or a mania—and then it hits me: I’m infatuated. I can accept this.With some relief.
I begin to move, to rock into her with tiny flexes of my hips. It’s slow and it’s torturous—for us both. The best kind of agony, and the best kind of ecstasy as I tease us with a rolling advance and retreat.
‘You feel so fucking good.’ I’m not sure if she hears me; my words are barely more than an exhale as I drive myself inside her body hard. ‘Oh, fuck.’ She clenches around me, lifting her hips to greet me.
I slide my hand to the back of her knee, lifting her leg and bringing it to my shoulder. The change of depth is immediate; pleasure crawls along my spine and tightens my balls, causing me to grunt. And though she might not be wearing her fuck me heels, that’s okay. I bite her ankle anyway. She cries out. I thrust a little harder in response, unravelling us both a little more.
‘You feel so good.’ Her hands lift from her breasts, fingertips running up the ladder of my abs, then my ribs. ‘So hard inside me.’
Compliments. They’re always good, but from her, they’re a little unhinging.
