Halfway Girl (Girl 2.5)

“Yes. Yes.”

“I fucking love giving it to you.”

“I can tell,” she gasps—and then she starts to shake. With my face pressed to her neck, I can feel her scream building and I rush to cover her mouth with mine, swallowing the incredible sound of Birdie having an orgasm. It’s half choke, half my name, and I don’t think I’ll ever hear anything sweeter for the rest of my life. Unless she lets me climax her again. I slap my hands to the wall and focus on the kiss so I don’t start pumping my hips again. Too soon, right? I think it’s probably too soon when she’s still squirming on my dick and trying to rip the collar of my shirt.

Jesus. My brain is still skeptical this is even happening, but if anyone can clear up whether this is reality or fantasy, it’s my cock. It’s hard as steel, the aching head caught between my belly and the waistband of my jeans. She’d see it if she lifted my shirt—and I want that. I want her to see what she’s doing to me. Want her to touch me. But I don’t know how to ask or if it’s too soon—

Birdie lifts my shirt and moans at the sight of me.

Her legs drop from around my waist, but I’m physically incapable of putting distance between us. She’s the anchor to everything. I keep her upper body pressed back against the wall as she unbuttons my jeans and lowers the zipper. Waiting for her to touch my dick, I clench my jaw so hard it threatens to snap and the wind leaves me in a rush when her hand closes around my flesh, stroking it once in a tight fist. Fuck. Fuck. So good. My head lowers and we find each other’s mouths, kissing in time with her tightfisted pumps of my cock.

“You made me come,” she whispers in between kisses. “I can’t believe…”

“What?” I bark into her hair, driving my inches through her slippery grip. “Tell me.”

“I never get there. Not with anyone.” Birdie’s head falls back on her shoulders, allowing me to lick a pathway up the side of her neck. “Just you.”

The growl that leaves me is possessive and triumphant. I’ve never heard anything like it come out of me before, but it’s right as hell between me and this girl. It was inevitable. I can feel the truth of that in my bones. “I want to get you there every time, Birdie.”

We labor to breathe against each other’s mouths. “I want to let you.”

“Say you will let me, beautiful.”

An alarm bell sounds in the back of my head when she won’t comply, but her enthusiastic mouth on mine is reassuring. Enough to let it go. For now. She’s jacking me off firm and fast and it becomes impossible for me to think of anything but relief. I need relief. I’ve never climaxed for any hand but my own, and the difference in friction, the magical girl attached to the hand—all of it drives my urgency to the breaking point, higher and faster than ever before.

“I can’t hold on anymore,” I grit out, taking over the job of abusing my swollen flesh, tunneling it in and out of my grip at breakneck pace. “I want to come for you. Where. Where?”

She leans back against the wall and arches her back. “Wherever you want.”

I’m already ashamed of myself for what I do next, but a beast has been prodded to life inside of me by my connection to this girl. I want as much of me touching her as possible. My body is screaming for release as I press our foreheads together, dragging her leggings down, down beneath her hips. I search her eyes for any sign of alarm or protest and when I find nothing but excitement, I tuck the head of my swollen cock into her panties and spend myself inside them, stroking hard—hard—growling her name as I shoot come onto her pussy. She moans as it happens, and pressure I didn’t even know existed inside me pours out, as if she’s the only one capable of summoning it. Completing this act in a way it never felt complete before.

“Feel what you did to me, beautiful?” I pant, laying kisses onto her lips, flicking the tips of our tongues together. “Take it home with you.”

After what seems like an eternity, I drift back down to earth with Birdie cradled in my arms. Her breath is shallow against my shoulder and the intensity of my release has left me lethargic, but the need to care for her is more powerful than anything. I drop kisses onto her hairline while I pull up her panties and adjust her leggings, leaning away to search her expression. Already I’m starting to worry about what happens next. Was this some crazy fluke for her?