Good Time(40)

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

He watches himself disappearing inside of me while I watch him watching us. I clench and he groans. Then he wraps his hands around my wrists and pulls them behind my back. The movement forces my chest forward and I tighten reflexively on his cock as he shifts one hand to contain both my wrists. I could shrug out of this hold if I wanted to, but I don’t. I like it. I like that I’m on top but he’s in charge. I like the pressure of his fingers against my skin and the angle of his cock in my pussy as I’m forced to lean just slightly back.

Then he moves his free hand to my clit and I like it a lot. Oh, so very much. I think he likes it too because he groans, “God, you’re beautiful,” as I bounce on top of him while his thumb works me to perfection and I feel beautiful. I feel like I’ve never been more beautiful to any man, ever. I feel like whatever series of events led my path to cross with Vince’s was meant to be, unavoidable, universally predetermined. My head falls back, my neck arched, and I come hard and fast and without warning. The stimulation is too much, too overwhelming, too perfect.

Vince releases my hands and draws me down to his chest, his hands running soothingly across my back. He has nice hands, I think absently. Big, strong. Good at both restraining and caressing. Cooking and game boards. Fingering and pinching and twisting.

“I like you more than I should,” he murmurs into my ear when I’m spread out on top of him. He’s still hard inside of me while I’m a puddle of warmth and bliss. I pick my head up off his chest and kiss him, the movement rubbing my nipples against his skin, the contact making me want more. I rock on top of him, my lips pressed against his as I flex my hips and move with him. Then he rolls us so he’s on top, but keeps his legs bracketing mine instead of sliding between. He’s still inside of me, and it feels different like this, the penetration tighter. I’m again slightly restrained by the position and when he weaves his hands with mine and thrusts all I can do is moan in pleasure and enjoy the feel of him pressed on top of me, inside of me. Vince dips his forehead to mine, his breath heavy and his eyes intense. Our arms are aligned from elbow to fingertips, pressed into the mattress beside my head as his hips flex with purpose and strength.

“I wanted to fuck you like this from behind, but I like looking at you too much.”

“It’s okay, we can save it for when you think I’m annoying.”

He smiles, a quick flash of teeth and slight curve of his lips as his eyes flit across my face. Then he kisses me and thrusts. Hard and deep and perfect. Over and over till I’m nearly incoherent from wanting to come again. So close, so close, so close. When I arch my neck and tighten around him he dips his head into my neck and thrusts hard twice more before stilling over me with a grunt and whispered words about how good I feel, how great I make him feel. I slide my hands out from under his and wrap my arms around his neck because I want as much of his skin touching as much of mine as is possible. Because I want him closer. Because I like him a lot.

Vince kisses my collarbone up the side of my neck and ends with sucking my earlobe between his teeth, which tickles and turns me on at the same time. Then he holds my head between his hands and kisses me before balancing on one elbow and reaching between us to wrap his hand around the base of the condom as he pulls out.

I don’t think I’ve ever given any thought to this moment before. I don’t think this act has ever felt so intimate before though, more intimate than entering me in the first place. This post-coital withdrawal from my body, the condom filled with his release and coated in mine. The kissing and the way he watches me as he withdraws.

After he’s disposed of the condom he comes back, sliding the covers from beneath me until I lift my bottom and slip my feet under the sheet. I think he’s going to tuck me in and leave but instead he slides in beside me.

“A or B,” he murmurs as he plays with my hair. I’m tucked into his side, my head and hand on his chest. “A, cats, B, dogs.”

“C, both,” I answer.

He exhales and I know he’s smiling. I can feel it just in the way he breathed. It makes me smile too and I laugh.

“A, chocolate or B, strawberry?”

“That’s also a C. Strawberries dipped in chocolate.”

“What if it’s a milkshake?”

“Strawberry.”

“What if it’s pie?”

“Chocolate.”

“Ice cream?”

“Chocolate.”

“A donut?”

“Strawberry.”

“You are wildly inconsistent.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “Or maybe I just know what I like.”

“Hmm,” Vince murmurs. He’s still playing with my hair and it feels heavenly, but it’s making me so sleepy that I nod off a few questions later.





Chapter Twenty





“I have to go, beautiful.”

It’s early. It’s early and Vince is leaning over me in bed, pants on and partially zipped. Shirt hanging loosely open. He presses a kiss to my forehead and repeats the thing about leaving. I take in the light level in the room and determine it’s earlier than my alarm, before seven.

“Why?” I yawn.

“I have to be in court at ten and I need to drive home and change first.”