Page 96 of Fraud
Her tight little body squeezed my cock, milking it, until it exploded like a fucking bottle rocket.
As we were both breathless and exhausted, I scooped her up, pulling us under the covers.
“I can’t…I mean—I don’t know if I can even remember how to form complete sentences anymore.” She laughed.
“Normal speech will return eventually,” I joked. “In a few days, I’m sure.”
“That was…wow.”
I cradled her cheek, loving the soft pink glow I’d put there from our lovemaking. “For me, too.”
Her gaze shifted. “I know it might not have been the same for you since…I mean, I know you are experienced, and—”
My pointer finger pushed against her lips, stopping the nonsense tumbling from her mouth. “This? Tonight? The best night of my life.”
“The best?” she beamed.
“Hands down. I mean, it’s a close one with that day in kindergarten when I punched Jimmy Tate in the face for stealing my hacky sack, and everyone nicknamed me Killer, but still, the best.”
She laughed. “I can’t get over that nickname.”
I nodded. “My brother still calls me it to this day.”
“Well, Killer,” she said, her eyebrow rising in mischief, “is that all you’ve got?”
I watched as she rose, her naked body straddling me.
It was a fucking fine-ass view.
“No”—I grinned, reaching up to pull her on top of me— “not even close.”
I had a feeling, where Katelyn O’Malley was concerned, I’d never get enough.
Ever.
The light drifted in the window, causing my eyes to crack open the tiniest bit. Having grown used to the stained wallpaper of my cramped motel room, I had a moment of confusion when I found myself face-to-face with a fluffy white cat.
“Um, hi,” I said as he began to purr.
He dropped his head, his blue gaze briefly meeting mine, before he gave me an approving head-butt and curled up next to me, purring happily.
“Well, that’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Kate said.
I turned to see her propped up on her side, looking at me with a curious demeanor.
“What? The cat?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m not sure I’ve seen him act like that to anyone. Not even me.”
“Maybe he wanted another guy to hang out with,” I suggested, placing a hand down along his soft mane.
He moved, pushing against my hand with enthusiasm.
“Traitor,” she joked.
“Well, how about you two argue this one out while I go make us breakfast?”
Her face blanched. “By make, you probably mean something more elaborate than pouring milk, right?”
