The mattress creaked with his thrusts, his ass flexing beneath my hands. With his forearms beside my head, holding up his weight, and his body stretched over mine, he caged me in. Shoving harder, deeper, his hips pushed my body up the mattress until my head touched the headboard.
It was brutal and unhinged, the bed frame banging against the wall and my insides twinging with each stabbing plunge. But this time was different. It felt more intimate than the first, like the only thing between us was…acceptance.
He held my face in his hands, showing me with the heat in his eyes how incredible it felt. The stroke of his thumbs along my cheeks told me how much he enjoyed my body. And when he captured my mouth, his fervent licks expressed exactly how much he wanted me.
Something warm and needy and hopeful pinched in my chest. He hadn’t been hired to make me feel this way. His salary wasn’t dependent on his performance. And he certainly wasn’t here to please Collin. He was here for me alone.
But I couldn’t have forever. Hell, I couldn’t even hope for more than one night.
I closed my eyes, opened them. He was a hot guy in a bar. A hard cock to massage an ache. And this was sex, raw and beautiful fucking. Nothing more.
And I would savor every second of it.
The kiss grew more insistent and feverish, the piston of his cock bringing me to that glorious edge. My hand tangled in his hair as heat shivered up and down my legs. My back arched, my nipples hardened, and my nails dug into his skin.
When I reached the peak, a piercing moan tore my throat. My body jerked as the orgasm pulled through me in violent waves. The implosion melted everything inside me, caving in my chest and taking him with me.
Fuck if it wasn’t the most amazing thing I’d ever encountered, feeling his body shudder above me and watching the swollen flesh of his bottom lip roll inward as he bit down. His gaze clung to mine as he released that lip and opened his mouth in a grunting shout. His muscles shook. The cords in his neck stretched tight, and he pounded his hips, relentlessly, milking his release until the very last drop.
The scent of sex tinged the air. Perspiration slicked our skin. And despite the exhaustion of energy and arousal, we couldn’t pull away from each other, couldn’t look away, as if we were hanging onto the moment for as long as possible.
Lowering his head, he touched his mouth to mine, sliding his lips in a long, tender acknowledgment. I felt his gratitude in the swirl of his tongue, his wonderment in the weight of his breath, and a plea in his parting nibble.
He rolled off me, his gorgeous body sprawling over half of the bed, his chest still heaving with exertion. One hand stripped off the condom and dropped it on the floor, the other reached for my fingers, lacing them with his. Palms together, he pulled our joined hands against the hard bricks of his abs.
I tried not to think about how that simple connection made me feel and instead focused on the heavy rasps of his breaths and the soothing caress of his thumb across my knuckles.
As our heart rates slowed, I waited for him to fall asleep. Would I wake him before I left? Or skip the goodbye and sneak away with my composure intact?
His breathing changed, and his weight shifted beside me. “Break time’s over.”
Break time? I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He jack-knifed into a sitting position, gripped my thighs, and pulled my body between his legs. Then, with my knees hooked over his shoulders and his hands suspending my hips in the air, he buried his face in my pussy.
I didn't think it was possible, but he made it happen. He took me there, kicking and panting and moaning my release.
As the shuddering faded from my limbs, he lowered my hips to the bed, swatted my ass, and rumbled in a syrupy voice, “Your turn.”
And so it went. I took him in my mouth, and he took me against the wall. Then he took me on the bathroom counter, bent over the dresser, and doggie-style on the floor. When his finger prodded my anus and I pushed against his touch, he took me there, too.
We guzzled all the bottled water in the mini-fridge before, after, and during. He might’ve only had two or three orgasms, but the man was a fucking machine, his stamina outrageously inhuman.
No matter how bone-weary and replete I became, it only took his insatiable kiss to coax me again and again. Our lips remained fused for so long the malt and mint flavor of his breath embedded in my tastebuds. All I could taste was him.