One hand digs into my hip. The other reaches around me, applying pressure to my throbbing clit.
“My God,” I groan through clenched teeth.
“What do you want, Mallory? Do you like this?” He pushes into me harder. “Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t think of anything else?”
My breasts bounce, my head dipped, as I push back on him. He growls behind me, the intensity of his thrusts coupled with the expertise of his fingers, is sensation overload.
“Ah,” I cry, leaning back. Working my knees farther apart so he can go even deeper, I think it can’t get any more intense. Until he works one hand to my nipple and presses it roughly between his fingers. “This. Is. Amazing.”
The words are almost incoherent. Even I can barely hear them over the sound of our bodies and the white noise bounding through my ears. But I do hear the voice from somewhere past the pines.
“Is that you, Landry?” A male’s voice projects from the area on the other side of the tree line where the golf course is.
“Ah,” I gasp, covering my breasts with my arm. Graham pushes it away with a chuckle, not breaking stride.
“Don’t,” he whispers against my ear, picking up his pace. “Is that you, Paul?”
“Yeah. How are ya?”
He wraps an arm around my front and pulls me up so that my back is against his chest. He leans us both forward just enough to perfect the angle.
My nipples harden as the air tickles them and the exhilaration of the man’s voice sounds again. I can’t see him, but he sounds close and I wonder if he can see me. Graham doesn’t seem to care, just continues to drive himself into my body and bring me closer to the peak.
“I’m good,” Graham says, his voice so controlled you’d never know what he was doing. “How are you?”
I don’t hear the response. My body bounces on Graham’s cock, his hands roaming my body, demanding contact. I wrap my arms up and around his neck and arch my back, needing the release that is so close I can taste it.
His lips find the crook of my neck and he kisses me, nibbling the soft skin behind my ear. That does it.
“Graham,” I mutter, cradling my breasts with one arm. “I can’t stop this . . .”
“Let go, baby,” he whispers. He drives into me, hitting the spot I love like he’s done this a million times. I hear his voice calling goodbye to his neighbor while my world spins wildly out of control.
“Shit!” I cry, biting my lip to keep from calling out too loud. My body tenses around his cock, squeezing it as I feel my body shake. My knees go weak, threatening to collapse. Graham’s arm winds around my waist and holds me up, his fingertips searing into my skin. “Oh. My. God.”
Trembling as the orgasm hits me in full force, I feel his lips against my neck. “Damn it, Mallory,” he groans. Fuck!” He shudders against my back, his cock pulsing as he finds his mark. There’s no way to see his face and I hate that I can’t watch him, see what I do to him.
As I struggle to catch my breath, I feel a single, light kiss press against the skin right behind my ear. “You good?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I breathe, getting my wits about me. The air seems colder now, my body so much more exposed.
Without even seeing my expression, he seems to know what I need. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”
He scoops up our clothes, takes my hand, and leads me in the back door.
Mallory
FROM THE VANTAGE POINT OF the sofa, I watch Graham work in the kitchen. He moves so fluidly, completely at home as he makes us a drink.
On one hand, I feel like I know him so well. But when I think about it, I really know nothing at all. The fact I want to know more leaves me a little uneasy.
He looks over his shoulder, the muscles in his neck flexing as he pours a drink. The soft grey pants he’s changed into sit right below his navel and he’s shirtless and shoeless.
“What?” he grins, coming towards me with a wine glass and a tumbler.
“Do you cook?”
“That’s random,” he chuckles.