The tongue in my mouth has my hormones raging, oxytocin and endorphins and adrenaline sweeping through my body like a tidal wave.
It’s too much.
“Fuck, Josephine…” he whispers into my neck. Sucks on it a few seconds while his hips thrust, dick searching for its home.
Oh my God. “Just fucking do it,” I breathe. “Just fucking do it—please,” I add for good measure so I don’t sound demanding. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand i—
He eases in.
I think we’re both holding our breath; I have to spread my legs wider so he can inch forward, and the fact that I still have my underwear on is so incredibly sexy…
“Jesus Christ,” Duke moans when he’s buried inside me and stops moving. “Holy shit.”
He buries his face in my neck. “I don’t think I can move.”
“Why?”
His low chuckle vibrates against my skin. “I’m gonna blow my load.”
I’m gonna blow my load.
That would be a first; a man coming after only a few seconds and before his partner? Ha ha!
“Give me a second.”
My pussy throbs as he holds himself still, doing whatever he’s doing inside his head so he doesn’t come in the next few minutes, mentally trying to picture a cat in a tree or something, who knows.
I wrap my legs around his thighs, urging him on. Wiggling my hips, I want him to fuck me.
“Goddammit.” He laughs, pulling out a few inches.
Pushing in.
Yes…
Yes, just like that.
Oh God, don’t stop…don’t stop…yes…
Duke feels so fucking good, holy shit, holy shit…
I grip his ass in an attempt to bury him deeper inside me. He rotates his hips,dick so deep, I swear I see butterflies and stars behind my lids.
His moans are loud, but Duke isn’t as loud as I fantasized he would be, not nearly as vocal—and yes, I’d fantasized.
I love that he keeps kissing me.
Kissing me as if our lives depend on it, or it’s the last kiss we’ll ever have.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he finally breathes. “Shit, I’m—”
Duke pulls out and grips his dick. Aiming it toward my stomach, he comes on my lower abs below my belly button, my mouth falling open in shock. Yes, I was prepared for him to come but not…not THERE.
“Sorry.”
He’s still hovering over me, clutching his dick in his hand. It’s not limp—not yet—but there’s creamy jizz dripping from the tip.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he says again, climbing off the bed and disappearing into the hallway. My hands fall to the sides of the bed, chest heaving.