He braced himself up on his arms as best he could and swung his hips into her, giving it to her hard and deep, all the way in, all the way out. Her whimpered cries and digging fingers and tightening pu**y around his thrusting c**k told him she was close.
“God, that’s good…please don’t stop,” she whispered, her eyes clenched shut, breath panting gently in rhythm with his movements.
Stop? What in the f**k? She must’ve had a minute man in her past. “I got you, baby, don’t worry,” he said, and she opened up her pleasure-glazed eyes to stare up at him. “I got you.”
Maybe it was knowing there was no race to the finish, knowing he wasn’t stopping until he got her there, but she came almost before he finished his promise. Her thighs gripped his hips hard and she thrust erratically against him, her sweet pulls on his dick driving him to the edge. And she bit him again…fucking hard this time. On his shoulder, through his T-shirt, and he hoped it left a mark so he could have even temporary proof of this. His flesh clamped between her teeth muffled her cries, though he would’ve loved to hear them high and wild and all for him.
It was all he could do not to let her pull him down into her bliss, but he wasn’t done yet, not with her, not with this moment. He gentled his movements to give her a respite, easing down when she released her grip on him, kissing her neck.
“Yeah,” he whispered as she came back to earth with a series of drawn-out sighs. He still throbbed almost painfully inside her, but managed to keep control, keep breathing, keep from losing his f**king mind with lust for this girl. It was dark, but she was more beautiful right now than he’d ever seen her.
Getting his arms under her and gathering her up, he shifted to a sitting position so that she straddled him. He loved the way she draped weakly over him, as if he’d sapped her of all energy. “Don’t zone out on me now,” he murmured playfully in her ear.
A lazy chuckle greeted his words. He rolled his hips up, turning the sound into a moan. God, she still gripped him in little aftershocks. His movement spurred her to make her own. Apparently, Macy wasn’t done yet, either. She gripped the seat on either side of his head and began to ride him in long, slow strokes. Base to head, oh, f**k, over and over until the back of his head met the seat and he was gritting his teeth trying not to come yet. Macy dropped her face to his and that vanilla-scented curtain of hair fell around him. Her lips trailed over his forehead, down his cheek, around to his ear. When she blew lightly into it, he almost lost it.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her off, growling at the loss of her warmth. His c**k bobbed in the empty air and he growled with the agony of that, too. “Fuck. Don’t move.”
And what did she do? Make a feminine little sound of distress and grind her clit against his stretched-taut stomach muscles. “Shit! Macy, don’t move.”
“I want you to come,” she whispered in his ear. “Give it back to me.”
But he didn’t want to.
Because then it would be over.
Then she would be gone. It was inevitable.
His balls ached. His dick throbbed. Tension thrummed like a current under his skin. She blew into his ear again.
“Goddammit,” he all but snarled, flinging her back into her former position and surging into her. She wanted it, she would get it. And God, did she want it—her arms and legs locked around him; her cries in his ear were delirious with pleasure. She clawed what felt like bloody strips from his back, a new series of them with every orgasm he gave her. Three, by his count, before his strength gave out completely and he poured everything he had left into her, drowning in her.
Relief swooped through him like sunlight as he emptied. His mind remained a pleasant humming blank for one heavenly moment before all those turbulent thoughts came rushing back.
He heard her voice in his ear, sounding far away even though her lips were close enough to tickle. “Oh my God.”
Moving seemed an impossibility, but as he came back to himself, he realized he must be crushing her into the seat. Crawling back, he slipped free of her body and missed her immediately.
Macy glanced down at herself and quickly set about fixing her bra and shirt—modesty seemed a little ridiculous at this point, but whatever. She sat up and reached for the panties that still dangled from one ankle. He wanted to snicker, but didn’t think she’d appreciate it at this point.
But damn, she was beautiful. He doubted she would appreciate him watching her tidy up either, but there was little place else to look when her lovely skin was still pink with the remnants of desire and her eyes dreamy with the bliss they’d made.
He stripped off the well-used condom, stuffed it in a little trash bag he kept on the floor, and zipped up. She finished her own task, pushed her hair away from her face with both hands, and finally the two of them sat still, staring forward, just breathing.
“Wow?” he said at last, making it a question.
She laughed, and he relaxed. “Wow. Really. Wow.”
Her left hand rested on the seat between them, pale in the darkness. He inched his toward it and twined his fingers with hers. Her gaze shifted down to their joined hands, where her skin was clear and lovely and his was mottled with black ink. The question she asked then was the last thing he expected. “Do you ever give yourself tattoos?”
Chuckling, he nodded. “All the time. You know, if you want something done right...”
“Good point.”
Silence descended again. He wasn’t comfortable in silence, and usually it wasn’t a problem for him to come up with stupid shit to talk about. But the intensity of what had just transpired here had him desperately racking his addled brain for something, anything. Something to keep her here. He wasn’t ready to part ways yet; he wanted to spend the night with her, take her back to his place, or back to hers. He opened his mouth to ask the first thing that came out of it, whatever it might be, but she beat him to the punch.
“Um...could you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, okay. Absolutely.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this.”
Okay. Sure. Nope, there was no blade sticking out of his chest. He knew, because he checked. And because goddammit, it felt like it.
She rushed on to try to soften the blow of her words, but he was deaf to all of it. Something about drama, and Candace, and whatever the f**k. He even managed to say all the right words back to make her feel better, apparently, because she finally sighed in seeming contentment, leaning her head against the seat.
“God, what time is it?”
And that sounded like a lead-in to goodbye. Shit.
“Close to two, I would think.”
“I’ve really got to go.”
But don’t you wanna...can’t you just...ugh, shut up, dumbass.
“I kept you out past your bedtime again.”
“It’s all right.” She gave him a smile, just a slight curving of her lips, holding his gaze with her sleepy one. “I had a great time. Obviously.”
Her shy little laugh then nearly undid him. He was f**king idiot for even thinking it, but yes, he wanted to see that sleepy smile in the morning. He wanted to hang on to her all night. Instead, she would go home, probably go to sleep, and he would be wired for the rest of the night. He wasn’t the roll-over-and-crash kinda guy. Great sex was more likely to amp him up than wind him down.