Broken Love Story (Love 3)

I take my hand out of her pants, watching her, and I put my finger in my mouth, her breath hitching. “Later,” I tell her, “I’m going to spend my time savoring you.” I make the promise, pulling her pants down her legs. She steps out of one leg and then the other. I kiss her hip, looking up at her, seeing her eyes on me. I pull her panties down, and if I thought she was perfect before, I was wrong because she isn’t perfect, she is magnificent. Her hands repeat the same things with me, pulling my pants down and then my boxers. My cock springs out, and I feel her leaning down to take my cock in her mouth, but I stop her. “If you put that sweet mouth on me, this is going to be over before we even know it.”

She smiles at me, wrapping her hand around my shaft. “Well, then later while you savor me, I’ll get my own taste.” My hands go to the back of her bra where I unclip it, and the straps fall down the sides of her arms and she lets it fall to the floor. My hands move on their own, cupping her breasts in my hands. Her nipples stiffen in my palm.

Her eyes close as I reach down and take one nipple in my mouth, sucking it deep while I roll the other. “Can we do all this,” she pants out, “later?”

I let her nipple go, stepping back to look at her. “Are we getting angsty?”

She walks around me now, going to the bed and climbing on top of it on her knees. “Are you going to join me?” she asks over her shoulder as I take in her perfect ass. I don’t think we are going to get any sleep.

I walk to my side table, taking out the condoms I bought last weekend. Her eyes widen at the sight of them. “I haven’t been with anyone except Eric,” she tells me, “and I got tested after he died.” She looks down and then up again. “I don’t want anything between us …” She then looks back down. “But I get it.”

I toss the condoms on the table and get on the bed on my knees, my hands cupping her face. “I would never take you without one unless you asked me to.”

“Then I’m asking you to,” she says. I lean down and kiss her, and we slide down. Facing each other, we kiss for what seems like hours but is just minutes. I roll her on her back, her legs opening for me.

“Put me in you,” I tell her when my forehead touches hers. She moves between us and grabs me, rubbing me through her slit, wetting me as she positions my cock at her entrance, and I slide in one fucking centimeter at a time, the wetness sucking me in. Our moans come out at the same time as she arches her back. I plant myself all the way inside. Her legs wrap around my hips as her hand rubs my back up and down. Our foreheads are pressed against each other as I make love to her. Slowly, her hips tilt back each time, taking me deeper and deeper, and then I can’t stop. I thrust harder and faster. Her eyes close as I feel her pussy getting tighter and tighter, our panting breaths coming faster and faster. Until I feel her come, her pussy so tight I don’t think I could come out, and I don’t. I plant myself inside her and come with a roar.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Samantha

I’m lying on my stomach, my hands bent and under me when I feel soft kisses on my shoulder. Last night was hands down one of the best nights I’ve ever had. I moan as I stretch, feeling my body ache. I don’t think we slept more than an hour without waking up to feel each other. I woke up once with his mouth between my legs only to be flipped over and taken like that. I obviously had to one-up him, so he once woke up with me sliding down his cock. His hands gripped my hips so tight I might have his finger marks on me. Which makes me smile into the pillow.

“Morning,” he whispers from beside me, and I feel his hardness on my back, so I moan and arch my back up a little. His hand cups my breast as he rolls the nipple. He doesn’t say anything else; we don’t need words as he slides back into me. His mouth on my neck, he fills me over and over again. “Fuck,” he says right when we both come together.

“I need a shower,” I say once I can get my breathing under control.

“Oh, I can come and wash your back,” he says, laughing, and we walk to the shower together. Ninety minutes later, I sit at the table, my wet hair piled on my head, wearing his huge robe while he stands in the kitchen in his shorts making me breakfast. “You’re looking good there, Mr. Williams,” I say, hiding my smile behind my cup of coffee. He turns and looks over his shoulder with a smirk.