I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(34)
It doesn’t seem to matter that there’s a layer of wet satin dampening the contact. I jolt at the sensation. I also groan. Loudly.
“Does that feel good?”
“No. It felt awful. There’s too much fucking fabric in the way.” Here’s the thing about me: I don’t usually swear much. I’m pretty polite in the general sense of the word, but apparently when orgasms are withheld from me, I get a little bitchy. And sarcastic.
Pierce has the audacity to laugh. And then he goes and does it again. This time when I moan, it’s his name, and it comes out sounding somewhere between an angry growl and a whiny sob. It’s embarrassing—at least until he pushes my panties to the side and makes direct thumb-to-clit contact.
Pierce finally releases my wrists. I’m about to grab hold of his shoulders for balance, but the welcome pressure between my thighs disappears.
“Lift your ass,” Pierce orders. Really, it’s the kind of firm, authoritative demand I expect from an officer of the law. So, of course I comply. I’m a law-abiding girl, after all. Unlike my hit-and-run sister.
My panties are yanked down my legs. He drags me to the edge of the dryer, slides his palms up my inner thighs, and drops to his knees.
“I have ocean vagina.” Any further protest dies when Pierce suctions himself to said vagina and he starts to swirl his tongue. And then it’s all I can do to hold onto his shoulders and enjoy every second of the ride. And ride I do.
I basically use his tongue as my personal massager until I come, and then come again. The second time I have to bite the palm of my hand to stop from screaming his name. I’m still breathing like I’ve been playing chicken with a freight train when he pushes back up to a stand.
“Please tell me you’re going to sex me now.” I’m grateful that it sounds more like a demand than a plea.
“Only because you’re so polite.” Pierce grabs his wallet from the top of the washing machine and retrieves a condom.
I make myself useful by removing my bra, then push his boxers over his hips. His erection springs free. It’s pretty damn big. Not scary-porno big, but it’s definitely in proportion with the rest of him, and it’s so … veiny. I have a feeling the aerodynamic qualities are going to be a serious advantage in the orgasm territory.
He flicks the condom to me and I fumble to catch it. “Wrap me up, baby.”
With his eyes on mine, he slides a finger inside me, pumping a couple of times before he adds a second one. It’s smart. He’s big. A little warm-up down there is well-advised. It makes it difficult to focus, but I position the condom at the tip and grip the shaft. I smile when he groans as I roll it over the head and down the shaft.
I’m superready for some hot sex and whatever dirtiness he wants to throw my way. He doesn’t shove his way in there, though. Instead, he runs the head up and down, around and around, teasing. After a dozen infuriatingly slow passes, the head disappears inside.
I put my hand on his chest to prevent him from going any farther. “Go slow,” I tell him. “I want to watch this happen.”
His eyes snap up to mine, hot and needy, and his jaw tics. A smirk curves up the corner of his mouth. “You really have no idea how perfect you are. And don’t worry, I want to watch me stretch you with my cock too.”
I clench at his words. “That was way dirtier than anything I would’ve said.”
“I can dial that back if you’d prefer.”
“No, thanks. I think I like it.”
Our gazes dart back down at the same time. I clamp a hand on the back of his neck and he does the same to me—except he’s far more gentle about it. We watch as he disappears inch by gloriously slow inch. I am stretched with a capital S. Maybe even all caps. Shouty ones. It looks so hot.
“Fuuuuuck.” It’s a drawn-out groan through clenched teeth. “You feel incredible.”
“Thanks, so do you.”
He laughs a little. “I can’t wait to feel you come on me.”
“Pretty sure you’re not going to have any trouble making that happen.” Not based on the way everything is tightening below the waist already.
Pierce shifts his hips back and then forward again, the tiniest little bit, the most miniscule of movements. I don’t think it can be effective at all, until he starts the same back-and-forth motion and combines it with gentle, but firm, circles on my lust button. It doesn’t take long before the tightness in the pit of my stomach radiates outward and I come again. Harder than before. It’s insanity. I can’t stop moaning my appreciation through my orgasm.
Pierce lets out a triumphant groan. “Keep coming, baby. I love it.”
I’ve never been with someone who talks this much during sex. I figured it would be distracting, but it’s actually quite encouraging. I’m being praised for having an orgasm when it’s him doing all the work.
Pierce kisses me as I come down from the epic high. “Hold on, baby.” He brings my arms up behind his neck and hooks the backs of my knees into the crook of his elbows, pulling me right to the edge of the dryer. “You ready to come some more?” He winks, gives me a dirty grin, and then the real sexathon begins. All I can do—quite literally—is hold on for the ride. He manages to pound two more orgasms out of me before he comes himself.
I’m a ragdoll by the time he pulls out. I’m not even sure if my legs know what their purpose is anymore. I would like to have sex with this man for the rest of my living days. Maybe not daily, though. Every other day would probably be safer. I won’t even need boot camp if I had him on a regular basis.