The Other Man(46)

I barely got the door open before he had me across the entryway, pinning me to the wall.

I trembled under the touch of his big, rough hands.  No soft touches for me.  I was beyond them.  I only wanted what Heath wanted to give me, which was a thing that could never in any way be mistaken for soft.

He didn’t kiss me at first, just took me in his big hands, running them over me like he was committing every curve to memory.

He pushed my robe off my shoulders, unwrapping me like a present, making a noise low in his throat when he found me completely bare underneath.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” he groaned out hoarsely.

I squirmed under his scrutiny, wanting to touch him, wanting to touch myself, anything for relief.  But I held back.  I wanted too badly to see what he would do.

“Were you waiting for me, honey?” he asked softly, dropping down to his knees.

He shoved his beautiful face between my thighs, tongue stabbing at me without further ado.

“Were you?” he breathed into my sex.

I gasped out a yes.  Then his name.  I put my hands slowly, gingerly into his hair, never forgetting for a second, even in my near hysterical wanting of him, how hard it was for him to be touched.

He threw one of my legs over his shoulder and set to work on me, fingers delving inside, tongue exploring slowly, thoroughly, laving at my sex, inch by inch, scraping his tongue against me, fold by fold.

I loved it, but I needed more almost instantly.  I wanted to come with his cock inside of me, not his fingers.

“Heath,” I pleaded, wanting him to stop, needing to come with him inside of me, but I quickly lost the train of thought.  He had me finishing before I saw it coming.

He nuzzled into me, fingers still inside of me as I trembled out my release.

“Heath,” I said again.

“What do you need?” he asked, then proceeded to lave my clit generously with his tongue.

When I found my voice again, I rasped out, “I need your cock.  Please.”  I was panting as I begged.  “Please.  Please.  Please.”

He moaned and surged to his feet.  He got his dick out of his pants like he’d been trained to do it, like those military guys you see in movies, dismantling guns, every small motion keyed to the utmost efficiency.

He pushed into me bare.  Even in my lust haze, I caught that right away.

“I’m not on the pill,” I gasped.

He knew that, dammit, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him pulling out long enough to wrap up.

“I know,” he groaned out, already moving inside of me, rutting mindlessly like he just didn’t care.  “God, Lourdes.  I missed you.”

That, and the big erection banging me against the wall had me distracted enough to almost let it go.  Almost.

Insanity.

I pushed against his scarred shoulders in a last ditch effort, and that got his attention, as I knew it would.

“What . . . ?” he asked, hips still surging at me, the part of him that just couldn’t stop was not stopping for even a second.

“Don’t you have any condoms?”

His face screwed up in what could only be called agony.  “Fuck me, I don’t.  I’m not even supposed to be here.”

I wanted to cry.  And he kept moving all the while.

“I’ll pull out, okay?” he rasped into my ear, still rocking into me.

I did some very bad math in my head, expedient math that’s sole purpose was to get us both off in a hurry.

Pure idiocy.

Believe me, I know.

“We should be fine,” I gasped.  “I don’t think it’s the right time of month, so we should be fine.”  As if I said ‘we should be fine’ enough we would be?

And the rational me knew damn well that I had never been regular enough to rely on math like that.

Rational me was gone while hedonist me was getting her world rocked.

Pure idiocy.  I know, I know.

“Thank God,” he growled, ramming into me faster, harder.  “Fucking miracle, that.”

I really thought the timing worked in our favor.  I really, really did but that being said, when I’d told him that, I’d still been thinking he’d pull out.  Just to be safe, that extra bit of insurance that was by no means a guarantee, but still better than not pulling out.

I came first.  Of course I did.  He’d pound me all night before he let himself go before me.

He gripped both of my wrists and started kissing me on the mouth like he wanted to eat me alive as he let himself go.

He was buried to the f*cking hilt when his cock started jerking out its release inside of me.

Even with my brain still lust fuzzy from orgasm, I felt jolted back to alertness when I realized what was happening inside of me.

“Pull out,” I moaned into his mouth.

He started to, genuinely gave it a try, I thought, but about halfway out, he shoved back in deep and held himself there, rooting inside of me.

Like he just couldn’t help himself.

This was one of many, many reasons why the pull out method was a terrible form of birth control.  Oh yeah, that, and the fact that it really didn’t work, just felt a lot more safe than him shooting his whole load inside of me, as opposed to say, smaller amounts of pre-cum.