Page 47 of Off Limits

He looks up and meets my eyes. “You’re so fucking wet, Ellie. You get that way just from sucking on me?”

I bite my lip and nod. “I might’ve gotten a head start on the phone, but yeah, mostly from the blow job.”

Grunting his approval, he grabs a condom from the stash I now have in my bedside table and makes short work of tearing it open and rolling it on. We’re both still mostly dressed, but somehow that just makes this hotter. Like we can’t even be bothered to get naked because we’re so turned on we just can’t wait. Which, I suppose, is exactly what’s happening.

With one hand on my hip, he rubs the broad head of his cock all through my wetness and over my clit a few times before lining himself up and slowly pushing inside me.

He feels even bigger from behind like this, and I make a soft groan that gradually grows louder until his hips finally press against my ass.

Leaning over, he pulls my shirt even higher and places a kiss between my shoulder blades, his lips soft and warm. Then he slides his hands under me, cupping my tits over my bra and nuzzling my ear. “This is gonna be hard and fast,” he whispers.

I nod my understanding and agreement. “Yesss. Please. Fuck me now. I might die if you don’t.”

His answering chuckle vibrates through my torso, ricocheting through my body as he begins to move.

Despite his warning, he starts off slow, like he has all the time in the world.

But it’s a fake out, and it doesn’t last long. Soon he’s making good on his promise to make this hard and fast, the only sounds our grunts and groans, heavy breathing, and the slap of his flesh against mine.

So far every time with Simon is a new discovery, a new world of pleasure that I didn’t even realize existed. I’ve read books where people wax poetic about amazing sex, I’ve had a few friends talk about great sex they’ve had, and while I’ve had enjoyable encounters before, none of them seemed like those descriptions. But it’s like the difference between generic grocery store ice cream, and small batch, hand churned gourmet ice cream. The first one’s fine, it’s sweet and enjoyable on a hot summer day. The other is practically a religious experience.

Before Simon, I’ve only had generic grocery store ice cream sex.

This—this is a religious experience.

I’m so close, but with as keyed up as he was, and as hard as he’s going, I don’t know if just his dick, as amazing as it feels, will be enough to get me there. I’ve never come just from penetration before, either, though with Simon, that doesn’t seem like such an unattainable goal. This man knows how to use his body. But given our time limitations, and the fact that I will cry if I don’t get to come right now, I’m willing to lend a helping hand.

Me adjusting so I can slide my hand between my body and the bed causes Simon to slow down, lifting a little so I can maneuver. But he quickly realizes what I’m doing, and kisses my shoulder, my neck, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “Fuck, yeah,” he whispers. “So hot. Let me feel you make yourself come.”

With his hot breath on my skin, his dick in my pussy, and my fingers on my clit, I close my eyes, chasing after the orgasm that’s just barely out of reach. He resumes his punishing pace, and it. Is. Everything.

In seconds, I’m clenching around him while he mutters filthy encouragements in my ear, my fingers still glued to my clit, though they’re no longer moving. But just touching myself and him still pounding into me has aftershocks cascading through me, one after the other, like a never-ending orgasm. It’s less intense than the first, earth-moving burst, but no less amazing because each stroke is a new revelation of pleasure.

With a loud grunt, he pushes himself into me as far as he can, and I feel him pulsing inside me as he gives a few more short, staccato thrusts, my pussy reacting with a few pulses of its own. He slumps over me, his weight pressing me into the bed, and it’s delicious. He’s been so careful the other times, making sure not to crush me, and I’m not sure what’s different now—if he’s learning I can handle it or if he’s just so far gone that he can’t help himself. Either way, I want it. I want it all. Everything he has to give me, as often as he can.

All too soon, he regains his feet and pulls out, doing his usual routine of discarding the condom and washing his hands. I’m still lying halfway on my bed with my pants around my knees when he returns. Chuckling, he skims a hand up my back and leans over to kiss my cheek.

I lift up and turn my head to kiss him on the mouth, cupping his cheek with my hand. “Do your homework here,” I tell him. “Until your next class.”

He pulls back, his eyes studying mine for a beat before nodding. “Okay.” He cracks that grin that I’m growing to love more each time I see it. “But you have to pull your pants up. Otherwise I won’t get any homework done, and I’m already playing catch up.”

Returning his grin, I pull up my pants. “I can handle that. And if you need help with your homework, let me know. I’m only dumb when it comes to statistics. Well, that and planning out my life.”

His smile fades, and he gives me a stern look. “You’re not dumb. Not at all. I mostly just have reading to do, but when it’s time for a test, you better believe I’ll take you up on that offer. I need someone to quiz me on Corporate Finance. Actually, I have an essay due next week, and if you’d look it over for punctuation and spelling errors, that would actually be a huge help.”

“Perfect. Send it to me when you’re ready. I’d be happy to.”

He leans in and gives me a kiss—we’re back to the sweet kisses again—then turns and heads for the living area. I watch him, admiring the way his jeans mold to his ass as he walks away, then grab my books and join him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Simon

“Hey, Simon.”

I turn my head on the padded trainer’s table to see Cal coming toward me still in his jersey and pads, helmet dangling from his fingers, his face troubled.

He looks at my leg propped up on pillows with ice packs taped all around it. “Is it bad?”

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