Cole is sitting in a meeting with the athletic director. Cole sent me here.
Her body is on my mouth, and his fingerprints are still fading on my hips from last week.
The thought hits and my hands lock on her thighs, my tongue pushing inside her, deep, while the sounds she makes above me break apart.
I flatten my tongue against her clit, broad and heavy. Her thighs clamp around my head. Her fist closes in my hair hard enough that my eyes water. I circle her clit, tight and fast, then suck it between my lips. She cries out, hips bucking against my face.
I let her ride it. Let her grind. My hands match her rhythm, pulling her down onto my mouth with every roll of her hips.
She's moving faster. Using me. I grip her thighs and hold on. She's trembling, both legs shaking around my head.
"Don't stop."
I increase the pressure and grip her thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints. She grinds against my face, her breathing fractured. Short. Sharp.
She breaks. Her whole body locks up, thighs clamping, back arching, hand yanking my hair. The sound is jagged. She clenches against my mouth in rhythmic pulses. I keep my tongue on her through it, lighter, slower, until her thighs loosen.
She lifts off me, shaking, then slides down my body until she's straddling my hips.
Her face is above mine, eyes unfocused and blown wide. My mouth is wet with her. She stares at it. Her thumb drags across my lower lip, slow, collecting the slick. She holds my gaze while she brings her thumb to her own mouth.
She reaches between us, wraps her hand around my cock, the barbells pressing against her palm. She positions me. The head presses against her entrance, hot, slick. She pauses for one breath, her thighs trembling against my hips.
She looks past me once.
Past her shoulder, across the studio, the nightstand sits beside the bed. Pill pack beside the lamp, current week punched through. The lamp she reads by and the things she keeps close while she sleeps.
She sinks down. Slow. Taking every inch.
Each barbell drags against her inner walls, the metal ridges creating a sensation that multiplies with every fraction she takes. She grips me so tight the descent feels endless. My hands find her hips and my fingers go white against her skin.
Her mouth opens. Her eyes flutter shut. Her head drops forward.
"Oh."
My grip on her hips goes involuntary, fingers digging in.
She bottoms out. I'm fully inside her. She's still for a moment, adjusting, her body pulsing around me. Then her hips shift. Her breath catches. Her nails dig into my chest, and I know when she finds the highest barbell from the inside because her face changes before she can hide it.
She rolls her hips. The drag of the barbells pulls a groan out of both of us. She adjusts the angle, searching, and when she finds the spot where the highest piercing presses exactly right on each stroke, her eyes go wide and unfocused. Her pace collapses from testing to desperate.
She plants her hands on my chest, nails in, and rides me. Each downstroke takes me to the hilt, each upstroke drags every piercing along her walls. She's tight, wet, and every clench drags metal against skin until my breath punches out of me.
I thrust up to meet her. The angle change pushes the barbells deeper. She cries out. Her nails rake down my chest hard enough to draw lines. I do it again, driving up while she slams down. The sound of our bodies is obscene. Wet. Rhythmic. Her voice breaking on sounds that have stopped being words.
"This isn't supposed to feel like this," she says.
Her hand grips my jaw, fingers pressing, tilting my face up. Her nails drag along my neck as her grip changes, forcing me to look at her while she takes me apart.
She rides me like punishment. Fast. Hard. Each stroke a full withdrawal and a brutal drop. I match her, hands bruising her hips, feet braced to drive up into her. She leans back and changes the angle, the barbells dragging against her front wall. Her whole body shudders. Her hands find my thighs behind her for balance, her back arching above me, and I grip her waist and bring her down harder.
She's close again. Thighs shaking around my hips. I slide one hand between us, press my thumb against her clit, and circle it fast and firm.
She shatters. Her body clamps down, tight, pulsing, squeezing around every piercing. Her mouth opens on a sound that starts as my name and dissolves into something wordless.
The pressure takes me over. My hips drive up one last time. I come inside her, and her name comes out of my mouth.
Maya.
