What do I want? I want him to stop talking. More than that, I want to do what he described. I want to take this back for me. I want to do this because I want to. Not because somebody else told me to or because they’re directing me.I want.
When he leans in, pressing his lips to mine, I don’t resist. No, I kiss him back as hard as I can, hard enough that our teeth clash as our tongues touch, then tangle together in our joined mouths. We tangle the rest of ourselves, too, arms and legs, and this time, I know it’s not a dream.
He wants me. And I want him. I want this.
One kiss at a time, one touch, he undoes every last reservation left in the back of my mind. And this is how it’s supposed to be. Not forced. It’s more like we’re following what instinct is telling us to do. Like when he pulls my tank top out from my waistband. When his hands brush against my bare skin. I don’t even mind when he touches my scar on the way up my back so he can unhook my bra. Even that doesn’t bother me because he’s already shown me how little it matters. He told me I’m beautiful not because of it and not in spite of it. That it doesn’t define me.
I have that in mind as I unbutton his jeans, running the zipper over his already hard dick. When my palm brushes against it, he groans, his eyes closing, his throat working. It’s so much better this way, and I do it again and again, just for the sheer joy of watching his reaction and knowing I’m the reason for it.
“Fuck, I want you so bad,” he groans, opening his eyes to stare deep into mine. The look in them leaves me breathless. The intensity, the heat, the desire. Desire for me.
And then he kisses me again, again, rolling me on my back before burying his face in my neck, running his lips over my skin until I run my fingers through his hair, moaning helplessly. “So sweet,” he whispers, and something like joy flares to life in my heart. Every touch, every brush of his lips over me, brightens that joy like fuel on an already blazing fire.
And now nothing could stop me from being with him, from taking him inside me. I need to get rid of my clothes. I need to be as close to him as I can. “Get this off me,” I whisper, frantic, sitting up partway to pull off my tank top and bra. Immediately, he lowers his head to take one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking almost playfully, teasing me before releasing it with a popping sound. He does the same on the other side, then switches back and forth until I’m ready to scream. I’m so wet, my clit aching until it hurts.
“Touch me. Down there.” I fumble with my jeans, and he helps me unbutton and lower them over my raised hips and down my thighs. When he cups my pussy, rubbing his palm against the soaked fabric, I have to bite down on his shoulder to hold back what would be a scream otherwise. I can’t forget there are people on either side of the room, and it’s the middle of the day.
Something about that is sort of hot—like we’re doing something wrong. And all that thought does is get me hotter, wetter, and before I know it, I’m humping his hand, my body so desperate for what it needs that it’s acting on its own.
“That’s right,” he rasps, his breath quickening. “Take it. Take what you want.” I can only groan in agreement and frustration combined. I just want to come. That’s all I want. I want to feel good.
“Come for me,” he whispers in my ear. “Come for me like I know you can. Let yourself go.”
“So close…” I breathe, rising higher and higher, the tension building until I want to scream again. “So close!”
“Give it to me. Give me your orgasm, Leni.” And then he presses his fingers down hard, tight against my clit, and I see stars. The whole world explodes in a shimmering cloud of light. All I can do is cling to him or else risk shattering into a million pieces.
But he holds me together, helping me through it, and when I come back to my senses, he’s kissing me again, my forehead and cheeks and throat. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he grunts, driving himself against my hip. He’s so hard; his precum soaks through his shorts, dampening my palm when I touch him again. “Oh fuck, I need to be inside you. I need it.”
I don’t say a word, only working my thong down and tossing it aside before welcoming him between my spread thighs. I need this, too. “I want you inside me,” I whisper, my voice shaky with nerves.
He lowers himself on top of me, stretching out, and I strain upward to catch his mouth before he slides in, filling me up all at once. Our mingled groans are lost between us, and he begins to move, taking me with slow, deep strokes.
I close my eyes and focus on the feeling. The growing heat, the friction between our bodies. The way his heart races against my chest, against my lips when I run them over his throat. It’s pounding the way mine is.
“Yes,” I whisper, holding him tight with my legs and pulling him deeper. I need him to know I want this. That he was right, that this is how it needs to be. “Yes, more.”
And he gives it to me, driving himself deeper, harder. Maybe I never finished coming in the first place, or perhaps it’s happening all over again. All I know is I feel it building almost on top of the last one, stronger this time. Every time our bodies meet and he rubs against me, he pushes me a little closer to the edge.
“Getting tighter,” he pants close to my ear before lifting his head. “So tight.”
“Getting close…”
“You’re going to come for me again?”
I whimper my response, unable to speak.
“I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel every ripple of those muscles. I want you to milk me dry. Will you do that?”
“Yes. Come with me,” I plead.
“I’m… going to.” Yes, he’s moving faster, losing his rhythm. And I love that, too, feeling him lose control, knowing I’m the reason. “Fuck, I’m going to…”
“Yes.” I jerk my hips, meeting his rapid thrusts, losing control the way he is. “Yes, Colt! I’m—” It hits all at once and cuts off anything else I was going to say, but there’s no need to announce it when he feels it happening from the inside. He crashes against me one last time before grunting out his release. The warm rush of his cum filling me is a deep, satisfying sensation. So much better than it ever was before. How have I lived without this?
How can I go back to life without it?
“Leni.” He collapses on top of me, and I hold him, listening to his ragged breaths and his soft grunts as he comes down from the high he drove us both to. “Are you okay?”