Screwmates(43)

As I bucked against his tongue, I wondered why on earth I had sworn this off. What was a little heartbreak in the face of—yes, yes, yes another orgasm? For this feeling, for the pleasure of his scruffy face in between my thighs while my fingers curled into his bedsheets, I could stand to suffer a little. If he wasn’t going to That Place for another few weeks, I would seduce him at every opportunity between now and then.

After all, it wasn’t like he was making any sort of effort to stay away, either. Right? I may have been rationalizing a bad decision, but I didn’t care.

Especially not when his tongue was doing that.

And even more especially when his finger joined his tongue to work me in tandem.

No amount of resolve could stand in the face of such an assault on my defenses. No one’s could. It wasn’t my fault.

Surely all our neighbors could hear the yelps I was making. Well, they could darn well get used to it. My tipsy, horny self was going to write many checks her screwmate wouldn’t cash before it was all said and done. I could do it. I could do whatever I wanted. I was a strong, independent lady, and I wanted meaningless sex that mean something to me.

And then he hit that spot that made my toes curl and I stopped bothering to justify anything at all. When I came down, he was peeking up at me with an undeniable smirk. Well, he’d earned the right to a little cockiness, with all his sex-godliness. But I was not prepared for what he said next.

“Madison. Remember how we agreed that books are sexy? Let’s get some now.” I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. That was it? We were quitting before the main event—to read? I knew he was studious, but this took things to an unacceptable new level. I wasn’t going to be able to focus on any written words when I was this revved up to focus on his dick. My horror only lasted a moment, because then he bounded back into bed with a copy of the Kama Sutra in hand.

Did I say life was transcendent? Life was nirvana.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned into him as he opened the book on his lap. Thank goodness I had decided we would do this more often, because the feeling of his hard body against my softness was the stuff dreams were made of. And the little excited grin on his face as he handed me my glasses to look gave my heart a little extra pitter-pat.

We had to flip past a few position ideas that looked just plain weird and acrobatic. The fourth page was very promising, though. Ascent To Desire relied entirely on his arm strength. I side-eyed them again just to double check that they were as ripped as I remembered. Yep. They were.

“This one first?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just smothered me with kisses as he moved back between my thighs, this time moving my legs so I was straddling him. I let my head fall to the side as he moved down my jaw and towards the spot behind my ear that made shivers roll like thunder down my spine. I was jelly in his arms as he swung his own legs over the bed. I rose up on my knees long enough for him to put on the condom waiting in his bedside drawer, then sank slowly down onto his shaft.

Once I’d settled fully on his lap, completely impaled, he put his hands under my ass to support me and slowly stood up. It always seemed like a cliché to hear “no one had ever been that deep before” in a romance novel, but legit, no one ever had. Of course no one had ever supported my weight with nothing more than their hands and their cock before, either.

I started, slowly, to shift my hips. In this position, he was grinding against my clit with every small change of stance. Once we were completely stable, he started pushing back against me, building momentum until I was bouncing up and down on him.

The promised ascent took almost no time at all, but I held off my orgasm through sheer force of will, just to enjoy it a little longer. When Marc’s arms started to get tired, he lay me back down on the bed, and I took my turn on top of him. The book lay discarded on a pillow, so I flipped around until I found something called The Perch that looked both doable and enjoyable.

Marc sat back up, and I turned around to sit on his lap facing away from him. In this position, his hands were free to roam my body. And roam they did. I kept forgetting to move as he gently kneaded my breasts. My head rolled back onto his shoulder, and he kissed that spot again.

When we were like that, me leaning back into him, letting him control everything from my movement to my orgasm, I thought to myself that my friends calling me Anastasia wasn’t so bad after all. Just look at how sexy giving up control was. When I stopped being nervous about my inexperience, I was able to give myself thoroughly over to pleasure.

And maybe that was why Marc could expertly use my body like a painter with a brush, highlighting areas I didn’t know existed, lighting me up from the inside out. Because I was so overwhelmed by him that I got out of my own head for once, not overthinking things. Or was it because I felt seen by him in a way no one else had ever seen me?

Either way, when he pinched my nipple as he pulled me back, moving deeper inside me, I lost my train of thought altogether.

And who even needed to think as we moved together like we’d done this a thousand times? I came when he bit my shoulder, but he didn’t slow down even a little bit. In my ear, he whispered filthy, sexy things about my body. I couldn’t think straight if I tried. Which is why the Thing happened. The Thing I never, ever meant to happen.

“I fucking love the way you feel on my cock,” his gravelly voice said.

“Your cock feels so good,” I was secretly thrilled to hear myself saying such a dirty thing out loud.