For Us (The Girl I Loved Duet 2)

I grab a condom from my drawer and slip it on. I’m doing what she asked, but I’m also not a monster. Well, maybe I am a little, because I have an idea. Sliding into her, I groan at the way she grips my cock, pussy clenching down like it’s desperate to be fucked, and I imagine that it is at this point.

“How badly do you want to come right now?”

She grabs at me, hands landing on my arms, desperate, fingers digging into my skin in a way I like. “So badly. How badly is a million badly?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” I say, “and you’re going to count down from sixty. Out loud. You can come when you reach zero.”

She moans, and it turns into a whine but she doesn’t protest, just closes her eyes, leaning back on the bed, and I like this. In the last ten years I’ve had a few partners who were a little kinky, but this is Amber. I like playing with her. I like knowing that this is what she wants, and even though she hates how much she wants to come, she likes that I’m telling her not to.

I thrust my hips a little deeper, and she gasps. “Count,” I say to her, because I’m not going to hold back. I fuck her. Hard. Every ounce of worry and frustration I’ve had over the last few days, every fantasy and every need. Every thought of how badly I wanted her I put into fucking her. She’s counting in my ear, breathless and desperate and trying to count but stopping and not able to continue because I’m going too fast, too hard, and I laugh. “The slower you count,” I say, “the longer until you can come.” She starts again. Forty, thirty-five. Twenty-five. I let myself give in to my pleasure, not holding back and rolling my hips so that the friction on my cock drives me higher. Amber is still counting. Fifteen. Ten.

I drive home, plunging into her with a speed I didn’t know I had, and I let go, the world exploding as she hits zero. Amber screams, pussy clamping down around me as her orgasm rips through her and mine is there too. It’s like flying through a galaxy of exploding stars, and I don’t stop fucking because it feels too good to stop, and Amber is shaking underneath me with hers, holding onto me for dear life.

A final burst of pleasure flashes behind my eyes and my head clears. Amber is still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, and every move I make with my cock makes her moan. I could probably make her come again. And I want to, so I do.

Reaching between us, I press my thumb on her clit, rolling it in circles, and she moans, “Please. please.”

“Yes.”

I move my thumb faster and faster, circling until I see her go tense, this orgasm fast and quiet, but her eyes close and her back arches and I know it feels just as good. I kiss her briefly before slipping out of her to get rid of the condom and quickly scrub the lipstick off my cock before climbing into bed with her again, pulling her up to the head of the bed beside me and covering us both with a blanket. She makes herself comfortable draped across my chest.

“That was a good fantasy,” I say, laughing.

“Yeah.” Her voice is hoarse, and I can’t help smiling. I don’t know any man in the world who wouldn’t feel pride at making his woman scream so much they lose their voice. That might be my next goal. We’ll see.

I run my fingers through her hair and she sighs. It doesn’t feel right to speak above a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” she says, still quiet.

“Why are you embarrassed by your fantasies.”

The little I can see of her face turns pink. “Because.”

“That’s not a real reason.”

She looks up at me, and makes a face. “It’s not so different from being a female director. People automatically assumes that sexual fantasies are for men. Including most men. We’re there to be fantasies, not to have fantasies.”

I roll us over so she’s on her back and I can see all of her face, study her. I’m never going to get tired of looking at her face. “Let me guess, you shared a fantasy with someone and they didn’t like it.”

“Something like that,” she says, avoiding my eyes. “They laughed.”

Anger surges through me, hard and fast, but that’s not what Amber needs. “I’m never going to laugh at you,” I say, adding a smile. “Well, not about this. I never knew that you were kinky.”

“I’m not.”

“It’s okay if you are,” I say quickly. “I don’t mind.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not kinky.”

“So you just like me telling you what to do?”