He spoke to her while he fucked her, and what he said had Katie rolling her eyes back in her head in mounting arousal. Sure, Rill’s films were known for raw language. The knowledge that he actually talked like that at times was just as eye-opening as the rest of this unexpected experience.
He held her hips tighter and lifted. Katie squealed when her boots came slightly off the floor. Her hands faltered on the mattress, but she caught her weight on her elbows. Both of them shouted when he plunged his cock into her at the new angle.
“Oh,” Katie yelped.
“Aw, yeah, that’s good,” Rill growled as he withdrew until just the head of his cock was lodged in her pussy. Katie gritted her teeth, knowing what was coming. He held her hips captive in his hands and pounded his cock into her from head to balls. She squealed at the impact of him massaging that magical spot deep inside her. Orgasm loomed. He held her lower body at his mercy and slammed into her with rapid, shallow thrusts.
Katie pressed her cheek to the mattress and shuddered in climax. Through her haze of swamping pleasure, she distantly heard Rill.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he gasped, pausing with his cock fully sheathed. He grunted in pleasure, and Katie knew he felt her orgasmic convulsions. His low growl sounded a little dangerous.
She shrieked when he resumed fucking her, fast and furious. Within seconds, she felt his cock swell, the sensation sending a powerful shiver of ecstasy to ripple through her flesh. He thrust into her one last time, the strike of their perspiration-damp skin sounding like the sharp pop of a firecracker.
Katie opened her eyes wide. Rill placed her feet back on the floor. She felt his body going rigid as orgasm blasted into him. His strangled grunt morphed into a pressured shout. His penis jerked inside her. She grimaced, her vagina instinctively clamping around him as he came. His muscles tightened and loosened again and again as he climaxed.
When his convulsions lessened, he leaned over her, his jagged pants blending with her soughing breath.
“Sweet Jaysus,” he groaned almost incoherently.
“He’s got nothing to do with it,” Katie mumbled. When he’d spoken, she’d felt the warm vapor of his breath on the back of her shoulder. She glanced back when he began to move his mouth as he panted, caressing her with his lips. Her pussy tightened around him again. He groaned against her shoulder blade. The sensation of his cock lurching deep inside her—and the resulting surge of heat in her pussy—brought reality crashing in on Katie.
“Rill?”
“Yah?” he mumbled as she shifted his hips slightly, stroking her with his sated penis.
“That’s enough.”
“Who says?” he slurred against her shoulder.
“I did,” she emphasized. The beginnings of panic began to flutter in her belly. She pushed up off the bed. Rill grunted when she attempted to push his weight off her. He straightened and his stillformidable cock slid out of her body.
“Spoilsport,” he accused. Katie stood and nearly fell on her face as she tried to turn. She cursed and bent to reach for the panties and jeans binding her shins. She straightened a moment later, spitting her long hair out of her face, and paused.
Rill had already fallen into bed. He lay on his back, his head on the pillows, torso twisted, and his feet hanging off the mattress. His eyes were closed, but Katie noticed how pale he looked beneath the shadow of his dark whiskers.
“Rill . . . are you going to be sick?”
“Course not. What’d you think I am? An amateur?”
Her mind flashed back to just moments ago when pleasure had splintered through her flesh. One thing was for certain: Rill Pierce was no amat
eur at making love. Even in his drunken state, he’d been utterly in control . . . masterful. Katie steeled herself against the powerful memory.
“I think you’re going to be sick, that’s what I think.”
His arm dropped from where it’d been resting on the pillow. His muscles went lax.
“Always the doubter, eh, Katie?” he mumbled, his accent so thick she’d barely understood him. He nestled his cheek into the pillow and passed out.
She went very still at the sound of her name on his tongue. It’d been the first time he’d acknowledged her all evening. Had he known her all along? she thought incredulously. She instantly vetoed that idea. It was just the casual camaraderie of their conversation there at the end, their typical taunt and tease that had made him think of her—Katie Hughes—before he’d passed out.
Before that, she’d just been a warm, willing body—a role Rill never identified with his best friend Everett’s little sister . . . or with his wife’s best friend.
For a few seconds she just stood there, undecided about what to do. She was paralyzed by her disbelief of what she’d just done. She’d just had sex with her best friend’s husband. It didn’t matter that Eden had died. Years of conditioning herself to a neutral role, of holding back when it came to Rill, suddenly struck her in a forceful rush. She’d been on a mission of friendship, and within a matter of several minutes, her entire world had changed.
If she got in her car and drove away, chances were he’d never remember she’d been there. The idea tempted her.
You came here for Rill, another part of her brain scolded. Just because she’d screwed things up by giving in to an infatuation that had lasted since she was teenager didn’t give her the excuse for fleeing the scene of the crime. Not when Rill needed help.