But there was one truth he had no problem telling her. “You look better naked than me.”
She rose up, grabbed his dick—which he liked—and tucked the tip where it needed to be—which he liked even more. “I doubt that,” she whispered.
Then the time for conversation was over again.
As she lowered herself and welcomed him inside her, he whispered, “Fuck. Yes. Beautiful.” Not only his new name for her, but because what he was seeing and feeling was just that. Beautiful.
All of it.
All of her.
Tight, wet, silky heat.
Surrounding him. Drawing him in.
What he would give to not have that layer of latex between them...
What he would give to leave something of him inside her after he came...
The only good thing about wearing a wrap was that it might prevent him from coming in less than ten seconds.
Because, fuck, if he allowed himself that, it just might happen, especially as he watched her face go soft as she leisurely slid down his length. Her lips parted, her eyes slowly closed, and her head fell forward, hiding the pure ecstasy on her face as he filled her. Once she was seated, she stayed there.
He waited. Not wanting to move, not even wanting to breathe. Because, if he was being honest, she could sit there forever. The two of them connected.
She didn’t even have to move an inch and he’d still be A-fucking-okay with it.
When she lifted her face to his again, she said nothing. Only stared, her hooded eyes dark.
His heart thumped when she reached behind him and released the knot, letting his hair tumble loosely around his shoulders.
He hated anyone touching it and would even go as far as breaking someone’s wrist before allowing it. His strong craving for Chelle to touch it, for it to brush along her skin, overrode his usual instinct to protect himself. She would never use it as a weapon against him or a way to control him.
Her fingers drove into the length above his ears and he quickly reminded himself that this was different. She was different. Especially when she used it to urge him to drop his head.
“Please,” she whispered.
She didn’t have to ask.
She directed him to one pointed nipple and he drew it deep into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking the pebbled tip with his tongue. Her back arched and she began to slowly ride his dick, rising to the very top and burying herself to the root.
Her tits were worth worshipping.
Her mouth a fucking treasure.
Her pussy as close to heaven as he’d ever get. Because if there was one, those pearly gates would remain locked the day he approached them.
When the fingers gripping his hair tightened, the sharp pull on his scalp made him pause. Until her mouth pressed to his ear. “Kiss me.”
Another demand, not an ask.
He reluctantly released her puckered nipple, shiny and wet from his attention.
“Kiss me.” The order whispered across his lips as she ground in a circle against him, driving him so deep there was nowhere left to go.
He plundered her mouth while cupping both tits. He squeezed and kneaded, loving the weight of them in his palms, the soft flesh within his fingers, the brush of the hard points against the pads of his thumbs.
A vision filled his head of her naked, on her back, her strawberry-blonde hair spread around her head like a fan, while she pushed her tits together as he tweaked the tips and he fucked the soft, pale mounds. Not letting up until he was ready to come, and when he was, finishing in her mouth.
She would accept all of him, his whole length with each thrust, and every drop of his cum when he spilled it at the back of her throat. By then she’d be so wet and on the verge of her own orgasm, when they’d flip around, she’d ride his face again until she exploded inside his mouth and he licked her clean. He’d savor every last drop of her in exchange of her savoring every last drop of him.
He forced himself from the fantasy he was determined to make a reality and concentrated on tonight. His future plans needed to wait.
He had her here and now. It might be in a fucking Subaru station wagon, but it was better than not having her at all.
She’d only come once. Once wasn’t enough.
Not for him, not for her.
Not tonight.
Chelle changed her rhythm when she began to rock back and forth, frantically grinding her clit into him, her whimpers filling his mouth. Their tongues stopped tangling, their lips stopped moving, but they remained connected, now only sharing their breath, which was ragged and quick.
His fingertips dug deeper into the soft flesh of her tits. When she released his hair, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drove forward one more time, holding him close.