It’s too hard to think. I swallow.
“Yeah,” I croak.
He stares at me for a moment longer. Then he smiles. It spreads across his face, lighting it up, and I realize that he’s genuinely happy at my agreement.
“That’s good,” he says. His hands pause. “If you want to stop, we can stop.”
Do I want to actually stop? He’s leaning away now, and my head is clearing a little as the smell of his cologne fades slightly.
Despite that…
“No,” I decide abruptly. “We can figure it out later. I want you to fuck me now.”
The air instantly becomes charged, the atmosphere changing back to sexual tension and lust. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Lyle, and his eyes search my face for a moment, perhaps looking for some sign of hesitation.
But there’s nothing there for him to find. I want him. I want to feel his cock buried deep inside me, and I want to feel his hands running all over me. I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck and hook my leg around his, dragging him closer. Our groins meet, and his full length is now pressed against me, pushing me along the hard wood of the door behind me. I gasp softly at the feeling.
“Fuck me,” I say again.
At that, Lyle begins moving, the last of his reservations from my interruption gone. He dives in and kisses me again, and I can’t move as he traps me against the door, his hands tugging at the hem of my shirt and playing with the skin at the hem of my skirt. I gasp into his mouth and he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping around my mouth, completely dominating the kiss. I melt against him, only the door and his body keeping me upright as my knees weaken.
Then he moves. He wraps an arm around behind me and hauls me forward. My arms are still around his neck and I’m helpless to do anything but follow, our lips still pressed together, my eyes fluttering at all the sensations as I stumble after him, ready to go anywhere if it means feeling more of him.
Abruptly, Lyle stops and swings me around, pulling away from the kiss. My knees hit a mattress and I fall back, landing flat on the bed, my chest heaving as I struggle to draw breath. Lyle leans over me, bracing his arms on the other side of my body, grinning down at me.
“You look so amazing; your lips are red, your cheeks are flushed and I can see just how much you want me,” he says. I groan at his words. “Tell me, Amanda, how much do you want me? What do you want me to do to you?”
I scramble to gather my scattered thoughts, trying to come up with an answer for him. When I find the words I want to say, they spill from my lips.
“Fuck me,” I gasp. “Fuck me hard and deep, so I’ll still feel you tomorrow. I want to feel every inch of you as you slide into me.”
I feel Lyle shuddering, his breath quickening.
“Sounds good to me,” he breathes into my ear, his breath blowing across my earlobe. “But first we need to get these clothes off.”
I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that we’re separated by the thin barrier of our clothes. But it feels like there’s a massive wall between our skin; the clothes need to go so I can feel Lyle wrapped around me as he touches every spare part of my body. I reach out and tug at his shirt, pulling it free of his pants and stretching the hem as I grab it, glad that at least I don’t have buttons to deal with. Privately, though, I think the long-sleeved, black shirt that he’s wearing, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fitted to his body like a glove, is part of why I could hardly wait to jum
p him.
I glance up at Lyle. He has a look of intense concentration on his face as he works at the buttons on my blouse; I was at work this morning, finalizing some things for my report to my father so that he wouldn’t be able to find (and make a fuss about) any mistakes that I’d made. I was worried about showing up to a new date in business clothes, but the expression in Lyle’s eyes as he looked me up and down appreciatively settled that worry. It made me feel sexy and desired.
That has nothing on the way he’s looking at me now, though. Lust is in his eyes and he unconsciously licks his lips when he pulls open my blouse, revealing my perky breasts clad in a lacy bra. I try to remember the last time someone looked at me like this, but it’s a struggle to remember that there were others who wanted me while I have Lyle hovering over me, his interest clear.
“You’re beautiful,” he groans as he runs his hands down my bare sides to slide his fingers over the hem of my skirt.
He pops open the button and I lift my hips so he can tug the skirt down, sliding my panties down with it. At the same time, I tug the zipper of his pants down, and they fall to the ground as he tosses my clothes away.
We’re both in various states of undress now; my shirt is open and hanging loosely from my shoulders and I’m still wearing my bra. He still has his boxers on, and his shirt is riding up his stomach. His hair is a mess and the air around us is heating up as more and more skin is revealed. I pull at the hem of his shirt again.
“Take it off,” I demand.
He grins and pulls the shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest. I sit up, running my hands over his muscles appreciatively, and then shrug my blouse off. While Lyle pulls his boxers down, letting his hard and leaking cock spring free, I reach behind myself to unclasp my bra.
Finally, the last pieces of clothing fall to the ground, leaving us completely bare in front of each other. I take a moment to look him over; this is not the first time I’ve seen his naked body, but my memory of our last sexual encounter is slightly hazy. While I’m tipsy now, it’s only enough to take away my inhibitions, so I now get a full, clear view of Lyle’s body, his chest smooth, his thighs thick and toned and his skin slightly tanned all over. He clearly works out. His muscles ripple as he moves.
I’m aware of his eyes drifting over me as well, taking the same eyeful that I am. Deliberately, I lean back, laying back down on the bed, and spread my legs, looking at him through hooded eyes. He watches me, barely daring to breathe.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” I ask in a low voice.