I waited, giving her time to take me in. Even without moving, just having her tight walls contract around me was ecstasy.
She nodded as her lips met mine. “Take me. I want all of you.”
It was her repeated invitation, and I wasn’t going to turn her down. Pistoning my hips, I eased in and out, filling her with each thrust as she dug her fingernails into the rug’s fibers and held on.
Her marvelous pussy, sensual noises, and expressions ranging from pain to bliss were feeding my hunger. Call me a chauvinist, but knowing that no one else had done this to her filled me with a caveman-like need to keep her here and never let her go.
Julia’s eyelids fluttered as she held on to my neck, our noses touching.
My balls grew tighter as I thrust faster, knowing she was again close and wanting to watch her display as she came.
It was as her body stiffened that I saw the splendor in her eyes.
That was the incentive I needed as I laid her shoulders back to the rug and lifted her bent legs to my shoulders. The sight before me was stunning. The end of my glistening cock was inside her wet pink pussy. Lifting her torso into my arms, I thrust upward.
“Oh, Van.”
Fuck, it felt good.
In this position I was buried deeper than I’d been before.
Julia’s youth and fitness allowed her the most satisfying flexibility. With her basically folded in half in my arms, my cock had the perfect angle as my hips pistoned with unabandoned need.
Harder and harder.
Faster and faster.
This was the definition of insatiable desire.
Her petite hands held tight to my neck as I continued recklessly staking my claim. It was as my orgasm built that she came again, her entire body trembling in my grasp. It had been so long since I’d engaged in sex fueled by pure desire that I’d forgotten the number-one rule of safety and precaution. As my seed pulsated out of me, filling her, I didn’t care.
That caveman need wanted only one thing.
To never let Julia go.
Julia
If men were supposed to reach their sexual peak at eighteen, I couldn’t imagine what Van had been like then. After a marathon session of incredible line-blurring sex, including but not limited to the rug, the sofa—over the arm of the sofa to be more precise, against the large windows, and with me balanced on the dining room table, we claimed satiation and exhaustion. As I stood on wobbly knees with evidence of our evening activities on my skin, Van slipped on his boxer briefs and handed me his flannel shirt with the sexiest damn grin.
“I like you wearing that.”
As I put my arms through the arm holes, I lingered, taking in the scent of his cologne and the softness of the material. “I like wearing it.”
Reaching for my clothes, I felt the warmth in my cheeks. “So...I guess this is good night?”
“I’m a lot of bad things, Julia. Despite my parents’ faults, they raised a gentleman.” He offered his arm. “May I escort you to your suite?”
Giggling softly, I placed my hand in the crook of his bent arm. “You are a gentleman, Mr. Sherman.”
“I’m not,” he said, as we ascended the staircase, “but I know how to act like one.”
When we entered the sitting room of my suite, I tossed my clothes onto a chair. “Thank you for the escort.”
His green orbs glistened with the desire from earlier. “If I stay in here, that blurred line will cease to exist.”
“I believe after the dining room table, the line completely disappeared.” My gaze met his. “Did we clean the table?”
He laughed. “Yes.”