The Failing Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #2)(64)

If she moves, I swear to God I will lose my shit and blow my load before I’m even all the way inside.

My lean hips push forward, instinctively wanting to thrust. And thrust, and thrust the shit out of her. I want to bang her into the headboard and god this is torture.

“Uhhh,” Violet purrs, oblivious to my inner dialogue.

“You’re only enjoying this because I haven’t plowed you yet,” I pant.

“Say that again,” she moans.

“You want me to plow you, baby?”

“Oh you feel so good…” Christ, she’s moaning so loud and it’s just the tip.

Her hands wander over my back, skimming and drifting over my taut muscles. Over my deltoids and down my spine toward my ass.

She needs to stop.

“You are going to come so hard when I’m inside you, I promise.” I breathe into her ear. “But slow down Violet.”

I’m so fucking afraid to hurt her.

“I can’t! It feels…”

“I know, I know,” I chant into her hair, her gorgeous snowy hair.

My arms shake from their balancing act on either side of her head; not wanting to crush her under my weight, my dick presses into her slick heat. One inch. Then another, grinding my pelvis into hers. Not pushing, not thrusting—just grinding. The friction? Fucking combustible.

Violet gasps so loud I feel it in my cock and down to my toes.

Groaning, I slide my hand down her hip and under her ass. Spread flat, my palm slips under her butt cheeks, fingers finding their way to her crack, pulling me deeper inside her.

“Oh fuck,” I blurt out because it feels so good my eyes roll back into my head.

My nostrils flare, and I inhale. Exhale.

“I-It’s… That…” Violet breathes heavily, groaning. “That feels so…”

“Say it feels good,” I beg, needing to thrust. Pump into her. Something. Anything. “Please, baby, say it.”

Her head tips back and I lick her throat. Suck and fuck. Bite on her earlobe.

Violet’s hands snake down my lower back, grasping my ass. She squeezes. Tugs. “It feels amazing, amazing. If I spread my legs will it—”

I don’t hear her finish her sentence; all I hear is spread my legs, spread my legs, spread my legs and I’m gone. I feel her spreading those fucking legs apart. Those porcelain, creamy white thighs I’m snuggly positioned between.

My dick pulses. Throbs.

“Did it just get bigger?” Her eyes are wide as saucers.

“Yeah it motherfuckin’ did.” I grind out through clenched teeth, unable to stop the dirty talk. “Do you like that?”

“Yes…” Her mouth forms a tiny O, lips parting. “Yes, I-I love it.”

I grind and grind my pelvis into her, my balls and her pussy pressed together so tight there’s no room for even a finger to slide in.

“I need to fuck you, Pix, I have to…”

I’m begging now, wanting to rail hard, no shame.

None.

“Please, Violet, fuck, please let me fuck you hard.”

“Yes. Yes! Do it Zeke, Zeke, this is driving me crazy.”

I pull out slow.

Thrust in fast.

Pull out slow.

Lips clamped shut, the anticipation and steady build are far more intoxicating than the quick, fast fucks I’m used to giving to nameless, faceless co-eds.

She’s so blessedly tight. I’m not a religious man, but Jesus, she’s so tight I throw up a prayer thanking my maker; I could die inside her and be in heaven.

The telltale sign of my balls tightening has me tensing up.

Oh shit, I’m going to come.

Shit, fuck, shit.

It’s only been five fucking minutes, tops.

“Oh Christ,” I curse. “Shit.”

“Wha…?” Violet is dazed, still holding on while I jerk my load inside the condom. “What was that?”

Oh my god.

My sweaty forehead hits the pillow over her shoulder. “My orgasm,” I mumble into the mattress.

“You came?”

I grunt.

“Already?”

Seriously, does she have to say it out loud? It’s emasculating.

“Yes.”

I don’t wait around to make small talk.

Pulling out of her, I climb off, throw back the covers to hit the john, and toss the condom. Wash my hands.

Return to the bedroom and slide into bed, pulling the black sheets over us. Rest my arms behind my head while Violet watches me, uncertainly, from her side of the bed.

“Come here,” I tell her, dragging her flush into my body so she can lean into me, resting her head on my shoulder. Reaching over, I stroke the silky strands of her blonde hair, letting the locks fall through my fingers.

Tentatively, she lays a hand on my chest, fingering the dark hair between my pecs, face tipped toward mine.

I kiss her nose.

“Are you sore?”

She wiggles her legs beneath the blankets, rubbing her knees together. “I don’t think so? Maybe.”

“I heard sometimes when it’s rough, it burns when you pee afterward.”

Why the hell did I just say that? Since when do I blurt out random shit? My body needs to do me a favor and chill itself the fuck out now that it dumped its load in under five minutes.