The Randy Romance Novelist(24)

Arousal spiked within my body, causing my hips to rapidly start to move on top of his lap; I felt his erection harden even more and could feel the tip peek past his sweat pants. I continued to kiss him, moving my hips, and letting a euphoric feeling overtake me. My body felt like it was floating on the edge of a cliff, waiting to be pushed over in the most delightful way possible.

“Fuck, Rosie,” Henry mumbled right before he grabbed me under my butt and stood up, never breaking lip contact. I didn’t have to look where he was taking me because within a few seconds, I was tossed on the bed, looking up at Henry, who was taking off his sweatpants and putting on a condom.

He was about to get on top of me when I stopped him and made him lie down. “I want to be on top.”

He quirked a rakish eyebrow at me, but then obliged, lying down on the bed and stroking his penis while eyeing my body. I pushed my hair back then straddled his lap. With his guidance, I slipped him inside of me and immediately sighed in relief. Every nerve ending that was begging for him to take me, for him to please me, stopped throbbing and settled in for what was to come . . . complete and utter satisfaction.

With one hand, I pulled my hair to the side and held onto it as I started to move up and down, intensifying our intimate connection. I looked down at Henry to see him staring at my breasts with his hands behind his head, letting me do all the work. Supporting my back, he lifted his knees up so both his feet were planted on the bed. I took the opportunity to lean against him and change the angle of penetration.

“I read about this position in a book once,” I said, continuing to move my hips. “The guy put his finger on the girl’s button and she came immediately.”

“Don’t call it a button; it’s your clit, and no book talk right now. This isn’t a book you read, this is Rosie and Henry,” he groaned, clearly starting to feel his impending orgasm.

“Just thought I would share. Maybe you can press my . . . clit,” I choked out the word, not hating the word completely. “I wonder if I would come real fast like the character. You never know until you try.”

“I know if you keep talking, this isn’t going to end well for you.”

“Just press it,” I said. “Press my clit.”

He rolled his eyes, brought his hand down to my clit and pressed it gently, rubbing it with the same motion my hips were moving in. What I thought was going to feel nice, didn’t feel good at all. It kind of felt like he was jabbing the head of a pin through my flesh.

“Gahh! No, nope, don’t like that!” I shouted, pulling away, but trapped in his leg wall.

“Well, you wanted it,” he blamed me.

“The books all say go past the slit, straight to the clit, for a number one hit.”

Henry started rocking his hips inside of me, aiding in the end goal. “Like I said, this isn’t one of your books, this is real life. What works for some people, might not work for others.”

“Don’t get mad at me,” I mirrored his frustration.

“I’m not!” his voice rose, turning me on a little.

“Yes, you are,” I pushed his chest, exposing a look of shock on his face.

“Did you just push me?”

“I did . . . you . . . you naughty boy.” I bit my lip, wondering if I was going too far. “You liked that, didn’t you? You want to be spanked, you want Mistress Rosie to spank that cock.”

His hips stilled for a brief moment. He leaned forward slightly, and said, “What are you doing?”

“Shut up before I slap that handsome face of yours. Now—give it to me . . . big boy! Give it to me hard.” I flicked his nipple, drawing another shocked expression from him. “Don’t just sit there, move!”

Confused, he thrust his hips.

“That’s it. Just like that. Keep going. Now moan for me, show me how much you like to plunge your sword inside of me.”

“What? Rosie—”

“Mistress Rosie,” I corrected him, swatting his nipple. “Don’t make me get out the floss.”

“Floss? What kind of floss?” Horror flashed over his features.

Breaking character for a small portion of time, I said, “I read this book where the main character is a domme, and she uses floss to tie the guy’s nipples.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions.” I pinched his nipple this time, causing him to fly forward and cry out.

“You liked that?” he groaned some more, moving rapidly under me. “Oh, you did, you naughty little nipple boy. Big daddy wants his nipples massaged? Let Mistress Rosie see those nipples.”

“No . . . off,” he squeaked out.

“You’re not wiggling out of this that easily.” He groaned some more, tipping me back and forth as his hands reached behind me. I tried to push him back to grant him some more nipple time, but he wouldn’t budge. “If you’re going to be a naughty nipple boy, then you can’t hide those areolas forever!”

“Get. Off!” he cried out, finally shoving me to the side so I fell off the bed and onto the nightstand, causing the bedside lamp to tumble onto the floor and the bulb to shatter across the ground.

Thanks to Henry’s brute force, I felt more like a human bowling ball rather than a sex temptress with an imaginary flog.

Scrambling around to cover my naked body from mortification, I went to grab one of Henry’s shirts, when I saw Sir Licks-a-Lot crouched on top of it, so it was bunched under his pelvis, where he was slowly humping it. I went to grab the shirt, but he hissed at me and continued to shove the shirt against his undercarriage, excreting a carnal meow.