As he positioned himself at her entrance, he vowed to go slow. Yes, he wanted to push, and he’d never been this worked up and she was, after all, begging. But he didn’t want to hurt her.
Of course, she surprised him again. She leaned over, pressing her breasts and cheek to the table, completely at his mercy.
“Damn,” he muttered. It was part oh-damn-I’m-so-screwed-here and part good old-fashioned awe.
He slid into her in one long, slow thrust.
They both groaned. Jocelyn gripped one edge of the table. She couldn’t reach both sides at the same time, but she held on to the one and tucked her other hand underneath her chest. There was something about the sweet pink nail polish on the fingers curling over the edge of the table, hanging on as she was fucked from behind, that was insanely hot.
Grant withdrew and thrust again. She took him easily enough. It was a tight fit, but in a glorious, hand-in-glove way that pulled at his balls, and his restraint. He wanted to pound into her, make the table rock, and make her scream.
Every time he pulled out, her body clenched and clung, not wanting him to go. Every time he sunk deep, she made sounds that made his balls, gut, and even his chest draw tighter.
He ran a hand up and down her back as he thrust, loving the silky feel of her hair over the back of his hand and wrist. He loved the curve of her back and her hips. He loved the color of her skin. He loved the way she went up on tiptoe to take him and the way his name fell easily from her lips.
But he couldn’t hold on for long. Her body was heaven, and her pussy milked him relentlessly.
“Jocelyn, I want you to come again for me,” Grant said through gritted teeth.
“This is so good,” she said.
“It is. Jesus, honey, it is. I can’t last too long.” He thrust deep. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel the way you come apart.”
She gave a little groan. “Oh yes. I’m so close.”
He gripped her hips and changed the angle just a bit, hitting more toward the front. Her pussy responded with a tighter clenching, and she said his name breathlessly.
“I need you wider, Jocelyn,” he said. “I need your pussy wide open and taking me.”
“Oh God,” she whimpered.
He grasped her knee and brought it up. The table was too high to rest it on the edge, so he just held it, surging deeper into her body.
“Step stool,” she gasped.
“What?”
“Under the table. Stool.”
He paused. Somehow. Unbelievably. He felt underneath the edge of the table with his foot and located the leg of what must have been a stool. He pulled it out by hooking his foot around it. Sure enough. It was a little wooden stool that would boost her up about three inches. It looked more decorative than functional. But he wasn’t picky at the moment.
Jocelyn reached back, grabbing his ass. “Don’t leave me,” she said. Then pressing into him, she stepped up onto the stool.
She put her own knee on the edge of the table.
“Oh wow,” she gasped.
She was spread wide and Grant nearly lost it. She really was going to do whatever he told her. And she was going to trust him for all of this.
“You’re… amazing,” he told her.
“Keep going, Grant,” she told him, gripping the edge of the table again.
“My fucking pleasure.” He gripped her hips and drove deep.
She moaned and pressed back against him. He did it again.
“Yes!” she called out.
“Come for me,” he demanded.
She reached for her clit, circling it as he continued to thrust, and a minute later he felt her pussy clamp down, and her cry was an even louder, “Yes!”
He picked up the pace, thrusting into her hard and deep until he let go, his release rushing through him.
Gasping, Jocelyn slumped onto the table and Grant pulled out, still gripping her hips. He tipped his head back and worked on sucking in oxygen.
His thoughts stopped spinning a minute later and he focused. He ran his hand over her flour-covered ass. “Yep, that is really pretty.”
She giggled. “I am going to get so horny every time I bake in here now.”
“Good.” He didn’t know why he said that. Why was that his first reaction?
He wanted her thinking of him whenever she came into her kitchen? Why? This was a one-night fling. Maybe a couple-weeks-long fling.