Fortuity (Transcend 3)

I grin, reveling in the way she can’t maintain eye contact and her fingers curling into my shirt like she doesn’t want me to come closer nor does she want me to step away. “There are other rooms in the house. Doors with locks on them. And I anticipate they will be a while. Morgan likes new things, and she hasn’t been to too many hardware stores.”

Another nervous laugh before she rubs her lips together, taunting me. “It’s weird. One minute you’re this responsible, doting father, and the next minute—”

I lean down and brush my lips up her neck to her ear. “The next minute I’m wanting to fuck my neighbor six ways from Sunday?” My teeth graze her ear.

“Yeah …” she says in a breathy voice. “Th-that …”

“What can I say …” I kiss along her jaw as my hands grip her ass. “You’ve awoken the beast.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Offered him sex.” My lips move to the other side of her mouth. “And left me hanging for five days.”

When our mouths meet, her nervous demeanor vanishes. Her hands tug harder at my shirt, our tongues explore, and soft moans mesh between us while I carry her up the stairs to my bedroom.

So many important things to remember …

I’m leaving.

She’s staying.

Sex sobriety is a thing. After a long dry spell, one taste can make a person go insane with need for it. All. The. Time.

I made it ten years, yet five days felt like an eternity.

Oh and the really important thing …

I’m leaving.

She’s staying.

Sex not love.

Sex not commitment.

“Lower …” she moans.

I grin, working my way down her naked body. When I stop too long in one spot, like her perfect breasts, her head rolls to the side, back bowed from the bed. Her seductive voice tells me to go lower.

“God … I like you … right … there.”

It’s hard not to grin every time she expresses her pleasure. It’s hard not to grin when she reaches for the condoms in the drawer before I get a chance to do it. It’s hard not to grin when she wants to be on top, controlling everything when … she knows I’m going to take that control away from her very quickly.

Before I flip her over and take back that control, I enjoy the view.

“What?” She opens her lust laden eyes, hands cupping her breasts. I don’t blame her. They’re fucking spectacular. Her cheeks flush even more when I grin, my hands sliding up her thighs straddling me, my thumb rubbing her clit.

“You’re sexy as fuck.”

“Shut up …” She giggles and bites her lower lip to hide her smile as those whisky eyes flutter shut again.

She’s giving me something. What? I don’t know for sure. It feels equally selfish yet completely necessary. This makes me feel like a man in a way that nothing else does.

It’s carnal.

It’s instinctual.

It’s human on the most basic level.

After I flip her over, it’s only a matter of seconds before she grabs a pillow and covers her loud chants of gratitude to God. No offense to God, but I’m certain the praise is meant for me.

Satiated and nothing more than a pile of breathless bodies, we remain unmoving for a few seconds. And … she’s up.

We have a strict, unspoken, no-cuddle arrangement. It’s called sneaking around to have sex. It’s called a sex only relationship.

“You should get up.” She glances at me while hooking her bra.

I prop my arm behind my head. “I will.”

“Like … now. That took longer than I thought it would. They could be back any minute.”

“Sorry.” I chuckle. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t hold out for that second orgasm. Pretty damn greedy if you asked me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She steps back into her capris without making eye contact.

“Well, God does. You interrupted his busy day several times just to brag.” I stand and saunter to the bathroom. “And don’t even get me started on how damn bossy you are.”

“I’m not bossy.”

Depositing the condom in the trash, I wash my hands and return to the bedroom to retrieve my clothes.

Her gaze snaps from my junk to my eyes.

“You are so bossy.” I get dressed at a slightly less worried pace. “Harder. Faster. Lower. Don’t stop. You’re such a conductor. I should get you a maestro’s baton, or maybe you’d like something more dominating.” Before buttoning my shorts or putting on my shirt, I step in front of her with a wry grin. “A riding crop?”

With a sexy smirk, she sucks on her finger then presses it to my lips for a second before drawing a line to the waistband of my briefs, her gaze following her finger.

My dick starts to stand up again, volunteering for another round.

“I think I ride you just fine without a riding crop.”