Page 187 of The Bet
“Remember this?” she asked, teasing, as she shimmied out of her shorts, so that he could see the whole ensemble. A sexy trip down memory lane.
She heard him gasp, as she lay there, in the bikini top and matching briefs.
“Fuck,” he said, as she spread her legs, letting him sink between her, his lean body lying over hers. He was hard, and hot against her skin, against her length and everywhere they touched, his chest against her breasts, his hard stomach against her smooth one, his hardness against her hips, his muscled thighs against hers.
“Lime Green Bikini,” he breathed, making a strangled noise and planting his face between her breasts, his nose in the crack of her cleavage. With one tug, he pulled down her briefs, while his mouth sucked her nipple over the fabric of her bikini.
Her brain short-circuited when his hand reached between her legs, and found her slickness. He rubbed his palm against her, making her spread her legs wider.
“Jeez,” he moaned, before sliding his tongue into her mouth again, teasing, and swirling, while their hands ran rampant over each other’s bodies.
How good this felt, lying, body to body on a super-sized bed, not sitting twisted in a car, trying to avoid a handbrake, no Cara in the room next door, just him and her, panting, and hot, and fully aroused. Her slickness matching his hardness. She trembled, as his kisses deepened and turned urgent, and their hands tugged, and caressed.
She pushed his head away. “Your turn,” she gasped, nodding at him. “Take it off.” And he did. She watched him roll his t-shirt up and off, and the throbbing between her deepened.
His stomach was all hard ridges, and curves and dips, and when he stood between her legs, like a shirtless beast, exuding pure lust, and hunger, she tamed him, and told him to take off the rest.
He bent over, pulling down his boxers, and when he straightened up, she gasped, almost falling back on the bed again, as her eyes fixed on his shaft.
He hadn't been lying when he'd told her he was big.
Her mouth fell open, and she dragged her gaze away to meet his dark-blue irises, their gazes locking as she bit back a moan, desperate to feel him inside her.
“No,” she said, when he fell to his knees, his hands on her thighs. He looked up, his gaze questioning, his hand stilling. It wasn’t his tongue she longed for this time, it was his hardness she was most desperate for.
“I needyou,” she moaned, arching her back, her wetness hot and sticky between her legs. She needed him hard and strong, deep inside her to counter the months of frustration. He reached over, pulling out something from his jeans, allowing her to stare at his naked body. And then she watched as he ripped the foil packet and slid on a condom, almost teasing her as he slowly rolled it over his full length. She bit back another moan, desperate to have him inside her, her nipples pebbled with anticipation. She wanted his mouth, and his hardness, and him. All of him.Now. Joined to her completely.
“I'll be gentle,” he promised, lowering himself down over her, his body hot, and smooth as he connected with her. His mouth nipping and teasing, and kissing her face and neck. She was naked, now, except for the bikini and when she reached behind to undo it, he stopped her. “Leave it,” he urged, cupping her breast, while his free hand caressed her thighs. He touched and stroked her everywhere, her breasts, her inner thighs, her stomach, her hips—everywhere except for her throbbing, heated center. Slow and determined, and taking his time, brushing feather-light fingers below her belly button, teasing her by not touching the very place that screamed out for him.
She bent her legs at the knees, her body arching upwards, as he pushed his hardness to her entrance, and stopped—just for a moment, as their gazes locked, and he could see right into her. She mewled, low and desperate, when his thumb settled over her nub, touching her at last.
A thousand tiny sparks ignited and spread out all over her skin. With his eyes fixed on hers, he began to guide himself inside her, making her gasp and shudder as he filled her slowly, stretching her, as every inch of his beautiful, heated hardness pushed inside.
With his hands buried under her bottom, he pulled her towards him gently, tilting her hips so that he could bury hilt-deep, her soaking softness swallowing him completely. He was engorged to the max, rock-hard like never before, and she moaned, a long, dirty, animal moan, as he slid in.
It was sweet music to his ears.
Izzy beneath him, inthatbikini. Izzy, soft, and wet, and tight, her muscles gripping him, pulling him in deeper.
“Don’t stop,” she rasped, when he stilled, for a moment, watching the beads of sweat above her upper lip, watching her eyes flutter open, then close, each time he slid in, then out, making her feel his length. With his thumb, he rubbed her gently, giving her double the pleasure.
He moved forward, touched her face, made her look at him, their eyes meeting, in this the most intimate of their union. This was him, the real him, a man who wanted nothing more than to do the right thing. A man who would never, if he could help it, hurt her again. “I love you,” he said, his gaze burning into hers, unblinking. She opened her mouth, and whimpered, her hips beginning to buck.
He pulled back, then thrust in hard, burying deep again, her lifted hips cradling his full length, before he pulled out, seeing the evidence of her arousal all over him. It excited him, and he thrust into her again, harder than before. In, then out, again, and again, and again, setting up a rhythm, getting faster, pounding her relentlessly as her cries matched his thrusting. It was a tune of sorts—rough and feral.
Her muscles clenched tightly around him each time he sank into her, and her pointed nipples pushed out from under the bikini top. She excited every part of him, igniting his senses with her cries, and her softness, as their lovemaking became faster and more frenetic.
They were an entanglement of legs and arms, her ankles around his waist, squeezing tight while her fingers dug deep into his back.
As her body trembled and vibrated to his touch, and her face turned pink, he could feel the pressure building up inside him. When her mouth fell open, a drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto her face, and she burst around him, tensing and jerking, her name on his lips, seductive and intimate.
He rammed into her one last time, burying deep, before reaching for her hand, entwining his and hers together, before exploding. The pent-up frustration melting as he emptied inside her, grunting out his final release.
She moaned and fluttered beneath him, and he, completely bereft of energy, squeezed her hand one final time, before falling onto his back, alongside her.
This was what happened after months of living like a monk; after months of getting to know her, months of waiting, and dreaming, and wondering.
They lay panting, and silent, with only the sound of their heavy breaths filling the air.
