Fat Cat Liar

“I shower every day, sometimes more than once,” I assure her.

“But that’s not the point.” She’s getting riled up, yanking her face back, but keeps a hold of my head. “You were naked, in my shower, soapy and wet, washing every perfect ridge and plane of your body, not to mention other things, and I slept through it! Who does that?”

At the mention of ‘other things’, I close my eyes and pray for willpower. She doesn’t notice and keeps on talking.

“I mean, it’s bad enough I had my first male induced orgasm in forever, then passed out on top of you. But then I slept through the good parts?” She ends on a shriek, but my ears are ringing for another reason.

First male induced orgasm in forever…

My body hums, and that willpower slips. I tighten my hold on her midsection, which is a mistake because her hipbones slam into mine. Her jaw drops and then snaps shut as her eyes fall to my bare chest.

“Greer, stop talking.”

She raises her eyes to mine then looks back at my chest. This happens twice more before she licks her lips and moves her hand from my cheek to my breastbone, scaling the skin lightly with her fingernails.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” she reiterates.

My willpower dissolves, and I whip her on top of me, ripping her shirt off in a single swoop. She gazes down, her eyes slowly roaming over my body and stopping where the towel and sheet are bunched low on my pelvis. Her hair is tousled from sleep, her eyes shining bright, and her expression full of promise.

I curl up, bringing us skin to skin, and crash my mouth to hers. She takes my aggression as an invitation, and her hands start to wander—skimming, scraping, and digging into my flesh as I deepen the kiss.

Things get out of hand, and the next thing I know, we’re rolling. She kicks and squirms until the towel and sheet are gone and the cool air coats me. Her legs lock around my hips, and she bucks into me, moaning low.

I’m powerless to stop myself; everything about her crushes my resistance. I know this is wrong, but it feels so right. The only thing separating us is the flimsy satin of her shorts. I tear my mouth away, bolting up and bracing on my knees. My hands move to the waistband, and I split the shorts right down the middle until I can shred them completely from her body.

A growl escapes from low in my throat at the sight of her naked with her legs resting against my thighs. I swear I hear sparks crackling as the air grows thick, radiating with sexual desire. My fingers skim her silky skin, hipbone to hipbone, then glide up and down, teasing her until she gasps.

My mouth waters to taste her, suck her into my mouth and lick every inch of her beautiful pussy until she’s screaming, writhing, and panting my name. But the brute in me can’t wait. I need to be inside her.

“Condom,” I bite out, attempting to tame the inner beast. When I try to move to my jeans, she clenches her thighs and bends back, her hand digging under her mattress and producing a small foil packet.

Her eyes light up as she tears it open, tosses the packet to the side, and curls her body up. My dick lurches at her touch as she rolls it on. She looks at me, biting her lower lip.

“I still can’t believe I missed this.”

“You have it now,” I rasp when she tightens her grip.

“You mentioned something about wanting to go slow.”

“That lasted all of five hours, seeing as we’re both naked and you’re stroking my dick.”

She stops all movement of her hand, arching until her hardened nipples press against my chest. “We could stop. Make out, play around, explore a little? You know, go back to your plan,” she teases, her tongue darting out to lick the underside of my jaw.

“I plan on exploring.” One finger slides inside her slickness. “All day, all night… I didn’t stand a chance against you.”

Her breath hitches when I graze my thumb over her clit. “Baby, let go of my cock and hold on to me.”

The expression from last night returns, and my dick lurches in her hand. The vixen is back. Two of her fingers glide lower, her fingernails scraping my balls. A fierce, low groan escapes when she starts to massage.

I drop my head, my eyes landing on where she’s expertly working me. Fiery sensations start low in my groin, growing with each movement. I struggle to focus, her touch claiming my senses.

Primal instinct kicks in, and I slide my finger out of her, ripping my body from her clutches. I take a second to appreciate the beauty laid out below me, sliding my hands up the back of her thighs and tilting her hips to mine. My eyes rove until they land on hers. I position myself and slowly slide inside her, memorizing everything about this moment.

My heart races, my pulse pounding at the same time something washes over me. I stop moving, staring into her bright green eyes brimming full of hunger, desire, and realize I’ll never be the same.

This is more than sex. The air between us changes, turning electric as the intimacy of the moment sinks in. All playfulness and taunting is gone, and the expression on her face tells me she feels the same.

Her inner muscles clench and release, adapting to me as I slide a little further inside her. With each small movement, our connection strengthens, sparking a primitive need that’s threatening to explode.