He lets out a moan that has my stomach muscles tightening, and soon after, he’s spilling himself. Hot ribbons fill my mouth, and I swallow them down as I continue to work for more. His hips are suddenly mad and have a mind of their own as they lift and fall and become erratic. I take every gush he gives me, not pulling away until there’s nothing left.
When I pull away, I wipe my mouth as I look up at him. His chest is rising and falling quickly and his eyes are closed so tightly that wrinkles and creases are forming around them. While he recovers, I bend down, kissing the hard muscles of his six-pack, working my way up. By the time I reach his chest, he’s hard again. I lean over and open his bedside drawer. My assumptions are correct and I grab a condom. I tear it open and slide it down him. Finally, I climb on top of him and his hands find my hips as I position myself right where I need to be.
Without warning, his hands pull me down and his cock slides into my wetness, connecting us as one. We both let out a sound of relief at finally being welded together. I go to lift myself up, but he holds me down. “Hold on,” he whispers, trying to get control of himself.
I’m wound so tightly that my muscles begin to tighten and release around him. The hold he has on my hips begins to lighten and I start slowly moving up and down.
“You’re so fucking amazing,” he breathes out, bringing his lips back to mine. Adding the kiss to the sensations already flooding my body has my hips moving more quickly. One hand leaves my hip to cup my breast, where he massages and kneads it, his thumb grazing back and forth over my hardened nipple.
I feel my release building as I grind against him, his pubic hair adding sensation to my needy clit. I moan into his mouth and his hands are back on my hips, tightening as they move me faster. My release builds high and shatters, raining down on me like hot lava—thick, fast, and unrelenting. I ride out every last wave of pleasure, and just as I collapse, he rolls us over and picks up the slack.
My legs open wide, giving him the room he needs to thrust into me as hard as he can. Every single one of his muscles is tight and hard, rippling with his movements. He pushes forward and the headboard bangs off the wall with a loud thud, but that doesn’t stop him from doing it again and again. His thrusts become harder, pushing me up the bed with each one, and even though his size is enough to cause pain, the added pressure mixes with my release and creates a delicious cocktail, and I’m suddenly parched, ready to consume it.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes out, not missing a beat. It only takes a few more minutes before we’re both completely lost in each other.
My eyes flutter open in the morning and I look around the room. I see a dark wooden bedside table, the entrance to a bathroom that doesn’t look familiar, and a pressed suit hanging on the closet door. This isn’t my room. I try to move but feel stiff and sore. That’s when the night before comes flooding back to me. I remember every touch, every kiss, every heavy breath. I remember the sensations that flooded my body—the blinding passion and need. Everything was amazing in that moment, but how will today go?
Will he pretend that nothing happened? Will our arrangement be over now that he’s gotten what I didn’t even know he wanted? Will this be some kind of turning point for our relationship? I don’t know and I’m suddenly nervous, waiting to find out. I roll to my back and look up at the white ceiling. I turn my head to the side and see his sleeping form: his thick, dark hair, his strong, muscular back, the top of his toned ass before the sheet cuts it off from my view.
I roll to my side to face his back, and something inside me is begging for more. I want to run my fingertips down his spine and move over to those little dimples on either side of it. I want to scoot closer and press my naked chest to his bare back, then wrap my arm