to lose it, going to go crazy from the urge to truly fuck him, he grabs my hips and starts to fuck me in earnest. It feels so good after all the teasing that I cry out. That shifts into a low, throaty moan as he keeps fucking me, his cock spearing me with every thrust, thick and tight inside my pussy.
He bends me in half, fucks me so hard that I lose track of anything but his body against mine, his cock in me, my hands fisted in the sheets. When I finally come, he's right there with me, both of us crying out with pleasure at the same time as we finish.
He pulls out, still breathing hard, and rolls onto his back cursing under his breath.
"You are positively addictive, Clove Walker."
"I could say the same about you, Zayne Pearson."
We move to the shower, ostensibly to clean off. We are covered in sweat, after all. Among other things. But he insists on washing me, and when he lathers up his palms with soap and runs those rough, strong hands over my body, slowly, head to toe, I can't help it. The fire starts to build in my belly again, this lust, insatiable, impossible to please.
Finally, when it feels like too much, I spin to face him, half-covered in soap that he's massaged into my body.
"Let me suck your cock again. Please."
He half-laughs, eyes hooded and dark with amusement. "Who am I to deny a lady what she wants?"
He steps back, and I kneel before him in the shower. Let the hot water run over my back and shoulders, rinsing me off even as I part my lips and suck his cock into my mouth.
He tastes just as good as I remember. And this time, when I build up a pace, sucking him in and out of my mouth until he starts to thrust into my throat, losing control, he doesn't stop me. He throat-fucks me, slams his hips into my face, the tip of his cock sliding down my throat with every thrust, until he's gritting his teeth and groaning loudly.
I keep going, my hands wrapped around his balls, tugging at them, toying with them as I suck him into my mouth. He fucks my face, slams against me, and I relax, opening myself to him fully. I let him take control and fuck me how he wants, until he's right at the brink.
"Swallow my cum," he groans, just before it hits him. When he comes, I tighten my lips around him and press my tongue along his length. He comes hard, deep in my throat, and I swallow it all, savoring the taste, the particular, unique flavor that's all him. I keep going, keep sucking until he moans my name, and only then do I lean back to lick his cock clean, slowly, an inch at a time.
I stand up, and I'm amused to find him red-faced and breathing hard, leaning against the shower wall. Now it's his turn to struggle to stay upright.
"How was that?" I ask innocently, batting my eyes.
He shakes his head, a smile on his face and his eyes locked on mine. "You were definitely still thirsty," he points out, and we both laugh a little.
Eventually, we do manage to clean off. Then we stumble out of the shower in towels and he gestures for me sit on the couch.
"I can help," I protest as he sets about making breakfast, puttering around the kitchen.
"You can, I'm sure," he admits. "But you aren't allowed to. You're only allowed to sit there and relax." He shakes a spatula at me, threatening. "You're my guest, Clove, you don't get to cook."
I groan in faux-protest and sink back against the cushions. "Fine. But only because I like it when you boss me around." I stick my tongue out, and he laughs, then turns to finish flipping the omelets he started.
As he does, I catch a glimpse of the book on his kitchen table. “1Q84?”
“Just started it. Have you read it?”
I sit up straighter, grinning. “Oh yeah. I love Murakami.”
“Kafka on the Beach is one of my favorites.”
“You’ll love this one. Especially…” I bite my tongue. “Damn.”
He laughs. “No spoilers! That’s cheating.”
“Okay. I’ll just say you’re gonna love it, that’s all.” Now that I’ve noticed the one book, I let my gaze drift to the shelves beside his TV, chock full of others. “What kind of stuff do you normally read?”
“Little bit of everything. A lot of dystopian, literary