Sanders releases my breasts, and his massive hands close around my stomach. His hands nearly wrap around my back and stomach and he holds onto me while he pounds into my pussy. He is holding me so close, sometimes my knees aren't even touching the bed. Sanders is fucking so hard and deep into my pussy I'm like a fuck toy, my body feeling more like that of a rag doll. I'm drenched in sweat, in our shared cum. I'm trembling with pleasure and my body is overrun with orgasmic pleasure that's wholly unrelenting. I have almost no voice anymore. Just the moaning could have done that, but the screaming orgasms on repeat definitely had something to do with that.
I hear him suck in a big breath, and when he exhales, Sanders stands me up in front of him. He lies against the bed and turns me to sit on top of him. "Ride me with what's left in you, princess," Sanders says.
I shiver at those words, at the idea, and at the effort. I slide his cock into me and I start to ride him, resting my hand against his firm, defined chest. He called me princess. That's how he treats me. With lots of added fucking in between. We are so sweat and cum slicked that I'm surprised we don't both melt into the bed.
Sanders narrows his eyes and sucks in a breath, and I know he's close again. I bring my hand to his face, cupping it in my own hands. I start with a soft kiss. His hands close over my hips and drive me down onto him. I come as I feel him spurt a thick load of his own cum inside of me. We keep kissing like that for ages, my legs shaking around us and my pussy milking everything his cock keeps shooting out. We keep kissing, and the world could fall apart around us. When I finally am laying completely against him, I hardly remember where our kisses ended and our cuddling began.
Sanders is the only man that could fuck me like the devil was in him -- or in me and he was trying to fuck it right out of me -- and then could hold me in the most heavenly way imaginable. Never in my life had my body been so thoroughly used for pleasure. And never had I also been so treasured. The way Sanders kisses me already blows all other men out of the water, and then he licked my pussy so good I could cry just thinking about it. I nuzzle into the crook of his arm when we finally come up for air from our kissing. I shut my eyes and breathe in the scent of him. Really, in this air, I'm breathing in the scent of us. I don't know where my body ends and his begins. I didn't know where my orgasms began or finished. I am in what feels like an almost permanent state of pleasure, yet my body has floated down and I'm falling into sleep. I am so well rested I wonder if I will wake in a week from now, sticky and ready to face anything. I have never, ever, been fucked like that it my life. Every nerve in my body was devoted to that pleasure, and now I'm the kind of numb that I can only feel his skin on mine. In my sleep, that feeling fades away.
I realize only in the morning that's because he's gone.
7
Sanders
My eyes snap open.
The room is dark and eerily calm, and for a moment, I wonder where I am. Then the realization sinks in. I'm still in Stacy's apartment, and looking over, I see that she's still sleeping; one breast is exposed and illuminated in the glow of the city lights just beyond her window. Her face is peaceful.
I look around the room—at the personal photo's of Stacy's family perched on her dresser, and other photos of her friends, and these things reveal a side of her that I realize I don’t know anything about. Who is this woman, really?
I feel a cold sweat creep over my body. What the fuck am I doing here?
My stomach churns with the realization that my life is spiraling out of control.
I'm a trained SEAL. Hasn’t my training taught me anything? Like restraining yourself and not running to your death. Until this point, I've been the epitome of control. And now here I am, in bed with a woman I hardly know.
It's a slippery slope. It's mistakes like these th
at get men killed in combat.
I need to get my shit together.
Stacy…damn that was something else. I’ve never fucked like that. It's a wonder my cock's still working, but honestly, she just turns me on in a way that no other woman has ever done before. And as if my cock knows exactly what I'm thinking, I feel it twitch in my boxers. Not now. I can't allow it to lead me.
I need to clear my head.
I quietly slide out from beneath Stacy's bed sheets, careful not to wake her, and I walk out to her balcony. Outside, there's an unobstructed view of the city. If I'm honest, I fucking love the city—the energy, the pulse of it all—and standing outside listening to the hum of traffic and watching the lights flicker from building to building suddenly brings me clarity.
Spending an entire night with some strange woman is a mistake. I can't stay here.
I take a deep breath, gripping the balcony railing, and inhaling the crisp night air.
I swallow it into my lungs as if it were a medicinal elixir. I can feel it working, and feel lifted.
Why do I feel the need to latch onto this woman? I don't know her at all, if I'm being honest with myself. She's a fully competent adult, with her own life to live. She doesn't need me rescuing her every minute of the day … trailing after her like some lost puppy. That's not who I am.
And then it hits me.
I need some purpose in my own life, and I know at my core that I can't keep latching onto Stacy like I am. She's not some mission to complete. But the strange thing is, I already feel so close to her. It's a feeling that my rational brain can't comprehend.
I listen as a car honks, and then presses on the gas, thundering down the street. I watch as a man and woman walk down the street hand in hand. She's leaning into his chest and giving him a knowing smile that reveals their contentment.
Now, those people know each other, I think to myself.
This thing—whatever it is between Stacy and I—isn't healthy.
The SEAL motto plays itself over and over in my brain: "The only easy day was yesterday."