Page 57 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
And we’re not done. He flips us without pulling out, I’m on my hands and knees at the edge of the bed in front of him. He grabs my hips to hold me in place while he pounds into me from behind. I cry out as his cock fills me completely. Touching places I didn’t realize I had.
“Oh, god, Brie.” His moves quicken, and I can tell he’s close. His balls swing up and hit my clit each time he bottoms out. I could almost come again, just from that.
“Oh, yeah.” His groans are guttural. They’re like an aphrodisiac that I want to hear again and again. He slams into me one last time, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me up so my back is flush against his chest, and he comes with a roar. The sound echoes through my ears, bringing almost as much satisfaction as the orgasms he gives me. It’s so primal, so out of control for a man who is usually filled with it, except when it comes to me.
I clutch at the arm banded around my waist, holding me tight. The other is wrapped around my chest, with his palm covering my breast. He turns to the side and lies on the bed, pulling me with him so we’re spooning, but he’s still inside me. And, if I’m not mistaken, still partially hard.
I could go back to sleep.
“Mmm, me too,” he says.
I didn’t realize I said that aloud.
“I could stay here forever.” He kisses the back of my shoulder and wraps his arms further around me until I can’t tell where I end, and he begins. One hand still cups my breast. But it’s more possessive than sexual. His other arm is around my waist, with his fingers curled across my hip bone, keeping me snug against him.
Not like I’m going anywhere. This is the most perfect moment I’ve ever had. One that I plan to enjoy for as—
Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!
We just had sex again.
Blanche:What in the actual fuck, Bristol?
Don’t cuss at me.
Blanche:Where are your boundaries?
I don’t have any.
Blanche:Fake an emergency meeting back home? Ring a bell?
Crap.
“I should go,” I mumble, trying to pull his arm up and off me.
“Go where?”
“Back to my room. Home. I don’t know, somewhere that isn’t here.”
“This is your room; we got a suite for our honeymoon.”
“What honeymoon?” No way can I survive a honeymoon. Just stick a fork in me now and call me Mrs. Reed forever.
“We’re spending three more days here. Just you and me. For our honeymoon. It was your idea.”
My god, how love drunk was I last night?
“I don’t remember that,” I hedge. Except, I think I do.
Blanche:By that you mean weknowwe remember. We don’t forget things. We just choose to let memories through selectively.
“Mmm,” he says like he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him.
“Well,” he continues. “We already pre-paid for the room to keep the block rate. I guess it’s too late to back out now.”
When did all this happen? Why does he sound so sure of himself? It’s like he knows what to say to appeal to my logical side.
“Pre-paid,” I murmur for no real reason other than to try to ponder what I may have been thinking at the time. If at all. It seems to me that I wasn’t doing much of that last night.
