Viggo alternately flicked and speared his tongue with expert precision, as if he’d known from the start what I liked and how to reduce me to a puddle of mush in seconds flat.
The scruff of his beard on my ass, his rough big hands holding me in place while he licked me open, was sensory overload. I held on to the headboard and gripped myself hard. I didn’t want to come yet, but it was already getting dicey.
“I can’t…you need…please,” I blathered incoherently.
Viggo smacked my butt and suited up; then his lubed fingers breached me…one, two, and finally three. I was gonna come. Yeah, there was no way I could hold on. No chance.
The press of his cock at my hole stalled my imminent orgasm. He was fucking huge.
“Relax. We go slow.”
True to his word, Viggo took his time, moving inch by inch till he filled me completely. I was shaking now. It was too much and not enough. I’d never passed out, but I was perilously close to coming undone.
“I think…I think it’s too much. I?—”
“Shh. I’ve got you,” he whispered, rocking his hips.
Pleasure flooded through me, chasing away pain, and suddenly I was flying.
“Oh, shit, that’s good. So good.”
Viggo moved with care at first, reading my body like a gifted musician playing a new instrument, slowly pulling out and sliding in, dragging the tip of his cock over my sweet spot. Soon enough, slow was the last thing I wanted. And he knew it.
Viggo upped the tempo, fingers digging into my sides as he thrust hard and deep. I stroked my aching dick to the rhythm he set, knowing I was heading for the edge.
“You wait for me,” he commanded. “I’ve got you.”
He wrapped his hand around mine, and that was it for me. I saw stars and white light, and I was coming and coming. I collapsed and he fell on top of me, his hips pistoning double time, then roaring like a wild animal as he filled the condom.
I wasn’t quite myself afterward. I couldn’t move, speak, or think rationally. I figured the haze would clear eventually. Maybe.
Viggo stirred first. I felt the mattress shift, heard footsteps, and saw the light from the bathroom, but I didn’t budge till he returned with a warm washcloth.
“Are you sore?”
“Dunno. I can’t feel anything,” I said into the pillow as he gently tended to me. “Actually, I feel like a jellyfish. Thanks for…you don’t have to do that.”
He splayed a hand on my ass and squeezed. “I want to. That was rough. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I noted the telltale trace of an accent and was charmed. I rolled onto my side, motioning for him to lie beside me. “I’m fine. Better than ever.”
“Good. Me too.” Viggo pulled the duvet over us. “Don’t worry. I’ll go soon.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to assure him that he could stay all night, but I didn’t trust my voice. So I snuggled closer, rested my head on Viggo’s chest, and fell fast asleep.
CHAPTER 17
VIGGO
Soft snoring woke me before the alarm rang. I glanced at the man glued to my chest, his lips parted and hair disheveled. There was nothing sexy about bedhead and drool…unless it was Dexter.
Shit. This was not smart.
Two weeks of clandestine meetings, trading houses, slipping into bed and fucking like bunnies till we passed out wasn’t sustainable behavior. I’d hoped we’d have gotten this physical yearning out of our systems by now, but it wasn’t looking good. I wanted him a little bit more every day.
Maybe the secrecy was a turn-on. But so was lighthearted conversation and the thrill of carnal exploration with zero expectation. This was a sex-only arrangement with an incredibly handsome man. Only a fool would walk away.
The evening usually began with a simple text stating a time and place to meet.
