Grabbing my cock, I push into her, as slow as I can fucking manage, inch by delicious inch. Lifting her legs, I put them around my waist and push harder, all the way in.
“Matt. Oh shit. Oh God,” she’s whispering, her voice raspy, her cheeks flushed. “I can’t… oh yes. Oh my God.”
She feels unbelievably good. Fucking tight. And hot. And I’m ready to blow my load.
Reaching down, I pinch one nipple, then the other, and she gasps, her pussy clenching around my cock, and ah fuck, this is so perfect.
Time to rock and roll. I put her arms around my neck. “Hold on tight,” I tell her, brace my hands on either side of her head and fuck her.
The slide and push inside her sleek pussy is so damn sweet. My eyes are closing from the pleasure of it, and I force them back open because I wanna watch the expressions flitting over her face.
Jesus, it turns me on. Her wide eyes, her gritting teeth, the choked, breathless moans leaving her lips without her noticing.
She looks as wild and feral as I feel, rocking against me, taking my cock so deep I could weep from the sheer pleasure of it. Ferocious.
She really wants this. Me.
She wants me.
Or at least my cock, and dammit, turn off for a second, will you, brain?
I pull her up and lean back, sitting on my heels, kneeling with her riding me, and oh fuck yeah, this is even better.
Her eyes go round as I thrust deeper, as deep as I can go, my heart pounding and my pulse filling my ears.
This is it. As I thrust up, into her, her tits in my face, her moans in my ears, her supple body draped over mine, this is as close as I can get to fucking heaven. My orgasm starts deep in my gut, a ball of fire uncoiling and spreading to my spine, to my balls, licking at my dick.
My rhythm falters as my cock swells more. Heat flows down its length, burning, and the pressure snaps.
I bury my face against her warm skin as I shoot, the pleasure so sharp it’s like a blade cutting through my middle.
Holy fuck. I hold on to her, my hands on her ass, as I curse and come and come some more, dimly hoping the condom won’t burst, and then she comes, too.
It’s fucking crazy. She convulses around my cock, crying out my name, her nails scratching at the back of my neck, and my dick keeps shooting, wringing my fucking balls dry.
“Matt…” She moans when I lower her down to the sofa, lay her on the cushions, still buried to the balls inside her. Her lashes flutter. She’s passed out, and it fucking makes me smile.
“Was it good?”
“So good…” She smiles back, her eyes dazed, and my chest tightens, my stomach doing a funny little flip.
Or was that my heart?
In any case, I’m totally, one hundred percent fucked.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Octavia
There’s a piece of paper stuck to my door.
Matt insisted on dropping me off, but I asked him to do it a few blocks down the street, not sure I wanted to answer everyone’s questions if they saw him.
Not that they wouldn’t ask anyway. It’s really late, and I can’t keep the sappy smile from my face no matter how hard I try.
And then this paper. Stuck with a kitchen knife to the front door of the house where I grew up, where my mom and Gigi and Merc live.
It reads, in big bold letters, “Who are you fucking?”