Page 114 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Until—

His stomach’s rock hard,

teeth gritted, trying to hang on.

His lips part around a strangled gasp,

head tilting forward,

one low groan shoving into my jaw.

And when he comes, he fucking comes.

His cock jerks hard in my hand once⁠—

twice—

and he spills for me,

broken and beautiful.

All over my fingers.

Into the hot, churning water between us.

His hips arch up into me, hands clenched into fists behind his head, his breath falling right into my mouth.

I have his orgasm trapped and stroke him through every stutter,

every grind of his hips,

until he’s deadweight and sated.

I release his hands.

They come over me,

one behind my head, in my hair,

the other across my back,

gripping my ass.

He’s panting into my collarbone,

kissing my throat,

mumbling drunk words,

all heart-on-the-loose and fever breath.

And these words aren’t pretty.

They don’t even make sense.

They’re messy, begging,

stumbling right out of him,