“You like letting me fall,” I accuse him.
“I like the surprise on your face,” Kyle corrects, leaning over me.
He captures my lips again and presses me back against the arm of the couch, maneuvering me until I’m laying lengthways on it. I’m too tall for it and my ankles hang over the other arm, but I’m too far gone, right now, to mind.
We separate, breathing heavily at each other.
“I thought you were going to break me,” I challenge.
He grins. “I’m getting there, you fucking tease.”
He stands up and takes a step back. His grin widens as my breath catches when his hands go to the button on his pants, teasingly flicking it open. Then he grabs the zipper, playing with it for a moment with one hand while palming himself with the other, his hips bucking against midair and the pressure.
“Unzip it,” I say hoarsely.
“At your command,” he says, his voice low.
He drags the zipper downward, and his erection springs free from the fly, hard and weeping from being confined for so long. Kyle’s eyes lock on mine and he slowly shimmies the jeans down his hips, dropping them to the floor before stepping out of them.
“Next time,” he says huskily, stalking back over to me. “You can give me a strip show.”
“Just remind me of that and I’ll give you a lap dance, too,” I say, my voice husky with need.
“I’ll fucking hold you to that,” Kyle says.
He swings a leg over me and straddles my hips. The couch groans and there’s definitely not enough room for both of us on here, but neither of us cares. Our naked skin meets and we both moan, panting as we pause, adjusting ourselves and trying to take a breath before we continue on.
“Ready?” Kyle asks for a moment.
“Fuck me,” I reply.
Kyle grins and lifts himself up, one hand braced on the arm beside my head, the other gripping the back of the chair. My legs fall open, one of them falling off the couch as Kyle settles between them and lines up. His penis teases me for a moment, rubbing against me as the tip slowly slides in.
“Faster!” I groan.
“Fuck,” Kyle gasps, and then he grins. “I can do faster.”
His hips snap forward, burying himself in one smooth movement, and I throw my head back with a guttural cry, my vision going black for a split
second at the overwhelming pleasure that races through me. Kyle, sweat dripping from his body and glistening on his muscles, chuckles.
“Now, I’m going to fuck you hard,” he murmurs.
He pulls out and snaps back in, his hips moving back and forth. Helplessly, my hips try and thrust down to meet his, but each thrust sends black spots crawling against my vision; he’s found my g-spot, and he’s trying to strike it each time, leaving me unable to do anything but writhe underneath him.
“I’m going to wreck you,” Kyle promises. “I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll never forget it.”
Never forget… I like that idea. If I never forget, I can draw the memory up when I need it, and use it to wash away every other feeling even when Kyle isn’t here. I wonder if that’s his aim. I decide I don’t care if it is.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
“Never,” he whispers and kisses me.
Never. I never want this to end. Why does it always have to end eventually? My heart is pounding in tandem with Kyle’s, and I can barely figure out where he ends and I begin. He’s in me so deeply that we might as well be one, because we’ve shared everything. Every scar, every dimple, every sensitive spot that could be exploited. I’ve felt his penis, he’s explored inside me. Our bodies hold no more secrets from one another.
I curl my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate to continue hanging on for just a few moments longer. I can feel my climax building in me and it’s going to explode at any moment, dragging me under and pulling Kyle along with me. But I want to relish these last few seconds before we’re pushed over the edge, and commit them to memory for me to remember later, when I need to.
Kyle pulls back, our lips separating.