The Other Man(16)

What I did want I wasn’t focusing on.  It was way too soon for that.  I’d settle for relief that the thing I didn’t want hadn’t come to fruition.

“Are you dating that guy you were just with?” he asked, eyes moving over my face like he was looking for something, like he could read me like a book.

Could he?

God, I hoped not.

“Um, no.  He’s a friend.  I ran into him at the grocery store, and we went out for a coffee.  What are you doing here?”

“I was heading to your house.”

“Oh.”  I smiled.  So it wasn’t a chance encounter.  He wanted to see me again.

It was pathetic how relieved and downright happy I was about that.

I licked my lips and watched his eyes move to my mouth.  “I could make us a late lunch.”

His jaw clenched like he was bracing himself for something.  “I don’t think I have time for lunch.”

My breath stuttered out of my chest.  I blinked once, and that one blink was like a light switch.  I went from being me to this sexual creature that just couldn’t get enough.  “What do you have time for?”

He didn’t even bother to answer, just took my hand and started pulling me.

And I let him.

Dammit, once I again, I was going to make this way too easy for him.

But one look at his agitated face had left me with an agitated body.  The man could make me wet with one look.  It wasn’t lost on me how twisted it was that that look was a scowl.

Heath angry = Me turned on.

I really hoped that wouldn’t turn into a thing for me.

We barely made it into my house before he was on me.

He pinned me to the door, pushing my arms above my head, holding them there with one hand, mouth crashing into mine, and started working my pants down my legs.

He was in a hurry.

I was right there with him, desire pooling heavy in my belly, my entire body throbbing for him.

My trembling, erect nipples were pointing straight at him.  They were begging him.  I didn’t have to utter a word.  I doubted I’d keep them in for long, but they were unnecessary.  My body was doing the talking here.

I wanted skin on skin, but we never got that far.

He stripped me bare from the waist down, shoved his jeans down just far enough to free his big eager cock, crammed a condom on, and started working me onto his bucking shaft.

I got loud right away.  Even when his mouth covered mine, I couldn’t keep quiet.

I heard the dog somewhere in the house, moving around with his big clumsy paws, getting close enough to us for Heath to pause and bark, “’Tato, out!”

As if the dog understood him, as though Heath ran the place, my huge Great Dane went scrambling loudly through the house, out his doggy door, and into the backyard.

I circled my hips, moaning into Heath’s mouth.  He was still pushing in, but not fast enough.

His free hand gripped my hip hard and thrusting his tongue in my mouth, he shoved home.

I had one leg hooked high over his hip, but it wasn’t enough.  He pulled out, ignoring my loud protests.

I didn’t protest for long.  He turned me, pressing my palms against the door.  He spread my legs, grabbed my hips in both hands, lifted me to just the right angle, and started drilling me from behind.

His rough breaths panted into my ear with every thrust.

Neither of us lasted long.

He hit every perfect nerve going in and out, in and out.

My orgasm built like it had its own pulsing life, beating into me with each rough thrust, growing with each hard slam of his dick into my *.

My nails scraped against the door as I came.

He shoved home, to the root, and held himself there.  After a few beats, still twitching inside me, his hands went from my hips to the front buttons of my shirt, tugging it open, sending buttons flying with a few impatient tugs.  He unclasped my bra, not breaking it, at least, and palmed my tits.

He kept thrusting, in smaller movements, still milking himself into me, still coming in perceivable spurts.

I wanted to sob in pleasure, it felt so good, barely stifled the sob-like noises that were coming out of me.

He kneaded my breasts, leaning close at my back to speak into my ear.  “I need to go,” he rasped, nuzzling into my neck.  “Now.”

What the f*ck? I thought.  He was the one that came to my house.  He couldn’t spend more than a few minutes here before he ran off?

And on the tail of that . . . Was I so spoiled from the last time that I just assumed he’d stay for more than one round?

“Okay,” I responded with what little breath I had.  What else could I say?  I wasn’t going to beg him to stay.

And still, he didn’t pull out, still making those delicious little movements inside of me, still breathing on my neck, his body against my back, my sensitive breasts still in his hands.

At least I was sure he didn’t want to leave.  It was something.

With a curse, he pulled away.

I went immediately for my discarded pants, not looking at him as he went into my nearby half-bath and started straightening his clothes.  He was fast, I noted, listening to his every move.

He didn’t even say goodbye, the *.

While I was turned around, still fumbling to re-clasp my bra, he walked out the door.