Hooking Up (Shacking Up 2)

When I don’t move fast enough, Lex grabs me by the hips and drags me up onto my knees. I make a very weak, sort of pathetic attempt at pushing up on my arms so I’m on all fours, and showing him “that ass,” but my arms are incapable of holding my weight and I drop back to my elbows, resting my forehead on my clasped hands.

“How you feelin’, baby?” He runs his palms over my ass in a wax on, wax off motion again and again.

I try a word, but it comes out garbled.

“What was that?” The press of his hips against me, and the slide of his cock between my ass cheeks, makes me suddenly alert.

I manage to string a bunch of words together, they’re a little slurry, but there’s some snark in there. “I thought we were eating first.”

“I did eat. Now I want to fuck you again.”

My saucy reply gets caught in my throat at the tear of the condom, which is followed by the feel of Lex’s cock sliding low and easing in. I groan and push back until his hips rest against my ass. His fingers trail a line along my spine.

“Ready?”

I nod.

There’s no easy start up. No slow build, no shallow thrusts. Lex grips my hips tight, pulls out, almost all the way, and then slams back in. Over and over, faster and faster, harder and harder. I consider giving my marble a roll, but the thrusting is just too vigorous, and honestly, I’m beyond the point of being able to coordinate the movements. But I can feel the pressure building again, the tightening of muscles, the heat funneling low and building fast.

As if Lex can sense how close I am, he releases one hip, slows down long enough to grab me by the shoulder and haul me up so my back is pressed against his sweaty, hard chest. Instead of resuming the thrust-a-thon, he starts a hard grind.

Running his fingertips down my arm, he takes my hand and brings it up. “Hold on to the back of my neck.”

I do as I’m told, because independent thought has ceased to exist. Also, if he releases me right now, I’ll face-plant back into the comforter. Beyond the other current issues impeding my ability to use full sentences, this position is incredible and it’s pushing me closer to the edge.

Lex anchors me to him using my left boob, and then the other hand, the one on my hip, moves lower and he does the thing I’m too uncoordinated to manage on my own. He circles my clit, slow and hard, grinding to the same rhythm. And I come. Viciously. Like the hardest I think I’ve ever come in my life. I’m a moaning, screaming, boneless mass of useless limbs.

Lex must’ve come too, because I find myself back on the bed, him stretched out on top of me.

“Holy hot damn,” I groan.

“Sounds about right.” His lips are on my shoulder, soft, warm, a stark contrast the way he just fucked me.

We lay there for a good minute, or seven, or an hour—I’m too sated to know or care—before he rolls off me. My hair is in my face, I blow at it, my limbs still refusing to do anything apart from remain attached to my body. Gentle fingers move the hair away until he comes into view. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, all over him really. His hair is a mess, the longer strands sticking up or falling forward, curling on his forehead.

He traces the contour of my face, his gaze following the same path until his eyes come back to mine. His expression is intense.

I clear my throat, not looking away. “Soooo . . . yeah.” My voice is raspy and my mouth is dry. I could use a gallon of water, and maybe a few shots.

He barks out a laugh. “Was that nice?”

Sarcastic bastard. I can’t even muster the energy to pinch his nipple. “Feed me.”

“I’ll call room service.” He rolls off the bed, popping up with far more energy than is reasonable considering the amount of it we’ve just expended. I admire his hot body as he crosses the room, the flex and pull of muscles, the amazingly solid contours of his ass, the narrow waist, the heavily cut back, sinew pulling tight as he runs his hand through his hair, smoothing out some of the wayward strands. I’d hand wash clothes on those abs and use that ass as pillow—after I bit it, of course. I get caught at the two thick lines crisscrossing across the left side of his upper back.

I’ve seen those scars before, when he dressed as a gladiator at the Halloween soirée months ago. I thought they were some elaborate makeup to augment the authenticity of the gladiator costume he was wearing. I didn’t think they were real. They’re jagged and thick, but pale, as if they’ve been there for a long time.

Lex picks up the phone and leans on the table, arms flexing. I pause to finally appreciate the intricate sleeve. A thunderous sky wraps around his shoulder, lightning bolts shooting down his bicep to end at his elbow. His forearm is covered in bright watercolor flowers, and on the inside of his forearm is a three-dimensional clock in black and white.

I could literally spend the next two weeks watching him like a TV show. All he would have to do is walk around my bungalow exactly as he is now, bending over to pick things up, stretching. He could just sit and read the paper. I’m not picky. My gaze moves up, and then back down. He really is immensely hung. I’m not sure I’ve had bigger. I definitely haven’t had better.

“What’re you hungry for?”

“Huh?” I pause my ogling.

“What do you want to eat? Apart from the obvious.” He gestures to his crotch with a smile.

I roll my eyes and flop back down on the comforter. “I don’t know. Anything.”

“Burger and fries?”

In all honesty, the idea of a burger and fries makes my mouth water, but I’ve avoided food that tastes like anything for so long I’m not sure my body can handle a burger. Also, I’d have to eat with my hands, and burgers are messy. Not sexy.

“What about antipasto? A cheese and fruit platter? Desserts?”

“Sure.”

Lex taps on the counter as he places an order. “You can put it on my account but deliver to bungalow seven. Yes. Yes. Thank you.” He hangs up and saunters back to the bed, holding out his hand, and he nods to the sliding glass doors. “It’ll be about half an hour. Want to take a dip?”

I give him my hand and let him pull me up. It takes some effort to get my legs to swing over the edge of the bed, but my muscles are taking cues from my brain again, so that’s a good sign. “I’ll just grab a suit.”

“Why bother? It’s late. It’s not like anyone can see.” Stepping over our discarded clothes, I note his socks are purple and covered in happy faces and that his boxers have the same pattern. I must’ve been pretty preoccupied with getting inside his pants to have missed that earlier.

I follow him to the deck, checking to make sure we’re the only ones taking a midnight swim, or whatever time it is. The water is like glass, the night quiet. Millions of stars flicker in the black sky. The moon is massive, a gorgeous pale disc reflected across the water.

Lex descends and dives in, seamless and smooth, hardly making a splash as water ripples out, lapping softly against the deck. He surfaces, running his hand through his dark hair. “You coming?”

The last time I went skinny-dipping was my first year of college. I’d been with Ruby, and some guy I was seeing at the time and his friend. My hope had been to set them up, but he turned out to be a dud, in all departments.

Lex treads water as I make my way carefully down the steps. Now that I’m not having multiple orgasms, and the endorphins are settling, my toe has started to throb. Maybe the water will make it feel better. “Is it cold?”