Page 55 of Protected

And the fact of his arousal on the heels of our emotional upheaval gets me going too.

I straighten, pull back, and smile at his damp, rumpled, slightly dirty face.

He gazes up at me with an intensity that takes me aback. It’s hot but also more than that. Deep and awed and adoring.

Before right now, no one ever—not once in my life—has looked at me like that. I’m not even sure my mind is capable of processing the significance. But it washes overme like a wave and evokes an internal shuddering that doesn’t go away even when I lean forward to kiss him.

I’m still on his lap, straddling his hips. It’s become my favorite position because the size difference isn’t as much of an inconvenience. Our bodies are as close as they can get, but our faces are almost aligned. I can kiss him and feel his body at the same time.

He’s already getting hard in his jeans. The bulge pushes up against my groin insistently. I grab handfuls of his thick, messy hair and open to the intrusion of his tongue.

It’s a good kiss. The best kind. Eager and passionate and just a little sloppy. But a small flash of spirit provokes me to tease when I finally draw back. “You really need a haircut.”

He huffs and frowns at me disapprovingly.

With a giggle, I sway in for a quick peck. “Not that you’re not already as hot as a man can be, but you could still use a haircut.”

He shakes his head and moves his hands from my ass so he can sign his response.Hair later. Sex now.

I dissolve into more giggles, trying to kiss him simultaneously. This time the kiss is even deeper and more urgent, and when we break apart, we start undressing in a rush. I yank off my top and worn sports bra as he fumbles at the button and zipper of his jeans, lifting his hips so he can push them down with his underwear enough to free his cock.

If he’d rather his bare ass not come into contact with the old cement floor of the storage unit, he makes no showof it. He helps me get my pants off—a rather awkward, rushed endeavor—and then pulls me back down to straddle his lap again.

We’re both smiling as he holds his cock in place so I can wriggle into position on top of it and slowly take it inside my pussy.

It’s only been a few days without sex, but it feels longer than that. I moan in pleasure as he penetrates me snugly. Since our only foreplay has been kissing, I’m not as wet as I usually am. It’s not painful or even genuinely uncomfortable, but the extra friction makes the stimulation more intense.

He gasps raggedly and arches his neck, his big hands clenched in the flesh of my bottom.

“Oh fuck.” I roll my pelvis in a small circle, reveling in the sensations. “It feels so good. I’ve missed this.”

He grunts and rocks upward several times, the little thrusts more instinctive than purposeful. He’s missed this as much as I have. That much is obvious.

When I start to ride him, he keeps one hand on my hip and moves the other to fondle my bare breasts.

They’re still not big—they never will be—but I’ve filled out a bit from better nutrition, so there’s a little more there to play with.

He stares hungrily at his large hand tweaking and twirling one nipple and then the other. The sensations combine with the tightness of my pussy to build toward an orgasm.

It feels so good and I want it so much that I let go of his shoulder and lean backward so I can rub myself off,but he beats me to it. He slides his hand from my breasts and down my belly until he finds my clit and starts to massage it.

He’s distracted. His cock is buried inside me, and he’s making eager, upward thrusts. His fingers on my clit aren’t at their most skillful, but it really doesn’t matter.

The pressure jolts my body into pleasure. Again and then again as I ride him faster and harder, chasing the orgasm that’s almost in reach.

We work our bodies together like that for a while, him gasping wetly and me making high-pitched, choppy sounds in time with our rhythm. Until he suddenly arches up, his mouth opening in a soundless cry as he presses harder into my clit.

It’s enough. I come with a silly sobbing noise. Deck yanks out his cock just in time before he follows with hoarse, breathy gasps of release.

We shake and jerk together until he’s spurted out a lot of ejaculate between our bodies. Then he draws me into a tight hug, and we continue to shake through little afterquakes of pleasure until it fades into delicious satiation.

It’s several minutes before I finally pull away and straighten up. I’m sore and messy, and my stomach and breasts and even part of my chin are wet from his semen.

He’s smiling as he casually reaches over to grab a spare shirt from his open bag and uses that to clean me up.

I giggle again at the pleased pride on his face.

“You’re looking smug.”

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