Page 30 of Breaking the Lawyer

I plant my feet flat on the blanket and grab his cock tighter. Then I thrust up hard.

The noise he makes echoes off the buildings around us. I don't give a shit who hears.

"Do that again," he pants, bracing his hands behind him.

And I do. I establish a rhythm that has us both seeing stars. I'm fucking up into him while stroking his dick, and the combination turns him wild. He leans back, putting his weight on his arms, and the new angle opens him up even more.

"Fuck, look at you," I growl, because he's a goddamn masterpiece.

"Don't stop," he gasps. "Don't you dare fucking stop."

Like I could. Like I'd ever want to.

I'm running on pure instinct now, my body moving without thought. Every thrust sends lightning through my nervous system, and the way he's gripping me is dragging me toward the edge at light speed.

Yet somehow he beats me there.

It starts with a sound—low and animalistic, ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. Then his entire body locks up, muscles going rigid as his cock jerks in my fist.

"Fuck, I'm—" he starts, but the words dissolve into a strangled moan as he comes.

Hot spurts of cum paint my chest, my stomach, my chin. The sight of him falling apart, the way his hole clamps down on me like a vice, is my undoing.

My orgasm hits like a freight train.

Stars explode behind my eyelids. Every muscle in my body seizes as I spill inside him, my hips driving up involuntarilyas wave after wave crashes over me. I'm distantly aware that I'm making sounds; growls, curses, his name.

But I can't stop.

Can't think.

Can't breathe.

Can only feel the incredible sensation of coming harder than I ever have in my life.

When it finally stops, I collapse back onto the blanket like a marionette with cut strings. He's still sitting on top of me, looking as wrecked as I feel, my softening cock still twitching inside him.

"Holy fuck," I manage when my brain comes back online.

He laughs, breathless and satisfied. "Yeah. Holy fuck."

We stare at each other for a moment. Then he carefully lifts off me, and I immediately miss the heat of his body.

He collapses beside me, and we lie there listening to the distant hum of traffic and our own ragged breathing.

"I feel like I should say something profound," I finally admit, because the silence feels loaded somehow.

He turns his head, and there's something soft in his expression that makes my chest tight. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Something that doesn't make me sound like a complete amateur."

Instead of answering, he leans over and kisses me. It's different this time. Slower. Deeper. Like he's trying to communicate something words can't handle. When we break apart, I think I get it.

"That works," I say, and he grins.

It's the kind of smile that makes me want to do stupid things. Like pretend this isn't complicated. Like ignore the fact that tomorrow morning exists.

But right now, with his cum cooling on my skin and his taste still on my lips, complicated feels like someone else's problem.

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