Page 17 of Shit Happens in Ivydell

Within minutes, my core tightens and tingling sparks flow through my limbs, followed by tremors in my quads and glutes. My hips rock feverishly, grinding my pussy against his hand, nearly quashing my impending orgasm because my spastic movements shift his thumb off-target. He recaptures my clitbefore the sensations are completely lost, his hand chasing the right spot while his eyes read my face and body.

When the climax crests, my inhales become inverted screams, and my fingernails dig into his shoulder. He stills and lets me cling to him until the aftershocks subside and my body falls slack against him.

I attempt to roll back over so he can take me from behind while I lazily starfish and enjoy his dick. At least my legs. He can pin my arms over my head. Behind my back, if he wants. I don’t care, but that orgasm depleted my energy. I’m more than willing to be a fuck-doll at this point.

But he rolls onto his back and says, “No. Come here. Ride my cock so I can see your beautiful face and those perfect tits.”

There’s probably a woman somewhere who could say no to that, but she’s not in this room. My thighs would like to launch a protest, but apparently, the rest of me is still feeling compliant.

I straddle him and hold myself open while he positions the tip of his cock at my entrance and watches me slide down it. Fuck, the way he stretches me is perfection. And he looks beautiful lying beneath me, watching my pussy stretch to accommodate his thick dick.

Pressing the fronts of my calves into the mattress for support, I arch my spine, letting my head drop back until the tips of my hair brush over his legs. A small shiver runs through him, and then his hands roam up my torso to palm my breasts.

It takes every ounce of my core strength to bring myself back upright. As soon as I do, his hands drift lower to grip my hips.

He lifts me a few inches and lowers me with a provocative grin. I take the cue and ride him like he wants, freeing his hands to reclaim my tits.

He’s quiet, no dirty talk, but his gaze moves over my body like he can’t get enough of the sight of me. Visual praise that makesmy walls clench around him. His hands glide up and down my waist. I pinch my nipples, prompting his hips to jerk.

When I feel sure I’ve got him close, I plant my feet on either side of him, steady my palms against his chest, and pump faster on his dick. My quads will throw up the white flag of surrender quick on this shit, but I think I can keep them engaged long enough for him to finish.

His jaw locks, and his quickened breathing morphs into loud animalistic grunts as he fucks up into me.

Success! I collapse onto his chest for a minute before I roll off to let him catch his breath fully without the weight of me on top of him.

I smile up at the ceiling.

“Are you laying over there congratulating yourself for that two minutes of work you put in?"

“I’m writing my acceptance speech.”

He laughs, and then he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “Do you think you should win for your tits or your ass?”

“Every category. Are you kidding? I’m sweeping these awards.”

“Should we go buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate?”

“And chocolate.”

“Burgers on the way?”

“Yes. With bacon.”

“You keep talking like that and I’m going to get hard again.”

“Bring me a towel, and then you can ply me with bacon, chocolate, and champagne. Who knows where the night might lead?

He rolls out of bed and walks to the bathroom. I can’t take my eyes off him.

Jensen

The Real Stuff

Ivy’s head whips tothe right when I drive past Hilltop Market, watching through the window as we whiz by my preferred wine store. “You missed the parking lot.”

“You said we could get burgers first.”

“We have to go this far for burgers?”

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