Page 90 of Wide-Eyed
Then he snapped.
Gripping my hips in his big hands, he snapped his hips forward as he pulled me down. My head jerked as my body sleeved him. The feeling was so exquisite I would do anything to feel it again. Just one more time. Then he did it again. And again. Mike bounced me on his cock like that was my sole purpose in life, and I loved it. He worked me over him, and I did my best to give as good as I got, but I was too stunned, too overwhelmed, and too outperformed to do much more than take what he was giving me. Mike gave me all his unhinged passion, all his rage, all his need. And, frankly, all his skill. I took it all, because I would take anything he gave me and still want more.
“Please come,” I choked out, then had to lick my lips and try again. He slowed the relentless piston of our hips and reached up to push my hair off my forehead.
“What was that, Princess?”
“I want to feel it.”
“Lyssa.” Shock cut through passion. “I’m in you, raw.”
“I know.” I let go of the beam and wrapped my hands back around his neck, pressing my hips as close as I could get.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
I did though. There was a tiny voice in my head chanting, yes, yes, take his cum, have his kids.
“Here, like this?” He checked.
Knit matching hats for the children and style family photo shoots.
“Inside you?”
Stay here forever.
I trembled in his arms, nodding. Yes.
“Yeah?” His eyes were assessing, hungry. “You want me to stuff you full of cum, Princess?”
It should have been literally impossible for me to orgasm without the careful combination we’d established of clitoral stimulation, penetration, and praise. But at those words—want me to stuff you full of cum, Princess?—I detonated.
My whole body quivered as all the curated tension in me collapsed in one fell swoop. I would have fallen if it weren’t for Mike’s hands around my waist, holding me to him. He thrust once, twice more, and then his body lost tension, his jaw going slack with a guttural groan. He shot inside me, like I’d asked, like I wanted—like we both wanted. I knew in the abstract that sex involved a lot of fluid, but suddenly, there was a whole gush of it. His semen filled me, drenched me. Our juices coated his cock, but he still kept thrusting, fucking it back into me, a fixated look in his eyes. I don’t know how he stayed on his feet because my limbs were buttered noodles, but somehow, he kept both of us up.
We stayed entwined, trying to catch our breath.
Together, we’d lost our minds, and together we had to come back to earth. Slowly. Mike carefully eased my legs back to the ground and helped me find my footing. I wobbled like Bambi, feeling a dribble down the insides of my thighs.
“That was—” He exhaled gustily. “Holy shit, Lyssa.” His eyes were locked on my thighs, watching the mess he’d made run.
“Yeah.”
I wanted to ask if he felt better now. But I caught the words just behind my teeth, because for one thing, I could see that he did. And for another, I didn’t want him to think I’d let him come inside me just because he was having a bad day.
Although I had.
But it was also more than that.
My brain was spinning. I was … I was in way too deep. When did this happen? Slowly, slowly and then all-at-once-with-the-speed-of-a-fucking-bullet-train.
We showered together—and Mike was right; there wasn’t enough space for two and he hit his head. I got in my softest pajamas, and Mike fixed tacos for dinner. I guzzled everything in my water bottle and peed three times before dinner was ready. I didn’t know if you were more at risk of a UTI if you had unprotected sex than protected, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
After dinner, Mike watched something boring about sport on TV, and I picked out an outfit for dinner tomorrow, modeling the options. He was attentive and affectionate and extremely complimentary about all my outfits even though I knew he thought they were all kooky.
We didn’t talk about the potential impacts of what we’d done—what I’d suggested and he’d gladly accomplished—until we were tucked up in bed, the lights off. Even then, it was a few murmured words.
He assured me—repeatedly, which was unnecessary—that he hadn’t been with anyone in months and was healthy. I told him I had an IUD, which briefly confused him because he started talking about a company’s unique value proposition.
He didn’t bring up his meeting.
