Page 52 of The Playboy SEAL
My statement makes her crazed. She reaches between our bodies and starts stroking herself in time with my thrusts. I don’t like it. I want all her pleasure. Removing her hand is easy. Keeping my weight off her body as I stroke her clit is the challenge. It gives me something to focus on besides coming. I know it will be quick if we don’t switch it up. Teala moans loudly, her face a mix of ecstasy and orgasm. I pull out at once.
“Don’t stop,” she rasps.
I have to, I think. I grab under her and flip her onto all fours. I won’t have to look at her face, and it might slow things down for me. It’s not lost on me that I’ve never had this problem before, and even the thought is enough to cause pause. I don’t waste any time once her ass and pussy are on display just for me. With the base of my cock in my hand, holding the condom in place, I slide into her. She growls like a motherfucking panther and starts bucking her hips back to get me in further. With afirm grip on her hipbones, I slam into her so hard that the sound of skin slapping skin fills the air. She lets her head fall down into my pillows. I watch my dick slide in and out until I can’t watch anymore. Her pussy grabs it like it doesn’t want to let it go.
Teala tells me she’s coming, so I reach around and stroke her clit until she screams my name and braces herself on her elbows. My dick starts throbbing with need when the waves of her orgasm massage my dick. A little stiffness leaves her body as she tries to catch her breath.
“Flip over. Let me see your face,” I pant out.
She obeys even though my dick has to slide out so she can do so. She’s on her back, her hair a tangled mess of sex, and her face serene. God, her lips. Her fucking lips. I take them in between my teeth and pull. I could bite them off and keep them in a jar. Look at them for the rest of my life.
I slide into her and still. “I’m about to come,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Please do,” she says. “I’m impressed with your control.”
The funny thing is I have no control right now.
A few more pumps and my balls are tight, and I’m tingling with the coming blast of pleasure. I lean back on my knees, tear off the condom, and stroke until hot bursts are flowing onto Teala’s tits. My face is turned to the ceiling to hide the twisted look of pure desire. My body juts a final time, and with a sigh, I look down at the beautiful mess I created.
“My god, I didn’t think it would ever end,” Teala says, a laugh in her voice.
I sink back on my knees, totally spent. “I didn’t either.”
She sits up. Her tits don’t budge at the movement, but my cum does.
“Shower?” I ask.
Bringing up her hands, she cups underneath the dripping mess and makes a joke about how she just got one. She rubs the cum into her chest and explains it won’t drip that way. I raise my brow, impressed with her cunning. I’m lightheaded when I stand from the bed and make my way to the shower. I turn it on so the water can warm and look over my shoulder when I hear her approaching. She’s coated with me, walking in my room, stepping into my shower, with me.
I smile.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Teala
His shower productsare nicer than mine. He spends a fortune on personal grooming, a fact that surprised me the first time I showered here. We’re drying off in his bathroom, grinning at each other. He has a goofy look on his face, and I’m not sure what that means. His hair is tousled and wet, and his thick eyelashes are clumped together with water. His body is insane. Not that I haven’t seen it in all its glory and know exactly what it’s capable of, but with a towel slung low on his hips and his gaze fixated on me, I’m noticing things I haven’t before. Maybe he hasn’t worn that smile before. Maybe he wasn’t lying when he told me nothing would change after we had sex. I didn’t believe him. How could I?
I drop my towel and sort through my bag for the black pair of thongs I threw in there for this exact situation. I slide them on, and he watches my every move with a feral gleam in his eye. The wide, dimpled smile is still in place.
“What? Spit it out. What’s on your mind?” I ask. Evenhalf naked, I’m going to command authority.
He shakes his head, laughing now. “Nothing. I was just thinking we can call showering together done,” he says, facing me. He turns toward the mirror and slides a comb through his hair. “Check that zoo life experience off the list,” he mutters quietly.
I cock my head. “What do you mean by zoo life?”
He presses his lips into a firm line to stifle his laughter. I urge him on with a blazing look, my arms crossed underneath my breasts.
“You peed in front of me. In the shower. It kind of creeped me out,” he says, chancing a side eye glance in the mirror.
I sigh. “You peed in front of me first, Macs. Don’t be so weird.”
He slams an open palm down on the warm-colored granite, again, the smile working its way across his face. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he responds. “My pee is a perfect straight stream.”
“And mine is what?” My face heats.
Now he has the good sense to turn his dimples down the counter. “Something out ofNational Geographic,” he whispers. “Like a zebra or a reindeer. When they pee at the zoo, you know? It looks all wild and wide and sloppy. No aim whatsoever. Like a dam being unclogged or a pipe bursting.”
I throw a hand over my mouth. I’m too amused and shocked to take offense. “How long were you thinking about that?”
