Muffin Top

“I’m on the pill,” she said. “My tests are all good.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, more concern than entreaty in his voice. “I promise, I’ve tested clean for everything.”

Words were her stock in trade, the kind that turned shit situations into public relations dreams, but this wasn’t the occasion for it. This was a moment for action. So she rolled onto her knees, wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, and licked him from root to tip. Then, while maintaining eye contact, she slipped her fingers between her legs and rubbed her clit while sucking him deep in her mouth. Staying like this was a temptation, one she’d give in to another day.

“This is good, but I’m not going to be satisfied until you’re filling me up and making me beg for more of your cock,” she said. “Does that answer your question?”

His only answer was to yank her up from the ground, spin her around, and press his hand between her shoulder blades so she bent over and braced herself by putting her hands on the storage box. She widened her stance, looking over her shoulder at the man who had done this to her. He looked wild, staring at her with an intensity that nearly made her come just on that alone. She lifted her hips, sending him a universal invitation to bury himself balls deep, but he didn’t come to her. Instead, Mr. Patience just stood there like a stubborn giant in the moonlight watching her.

“Frankie,” she said, her voice a desperate whisper. “Please.”

…

Frankie was ready to fall to his knees with relief when she said yes, but his cock had other ideas. It usually did. And now, looking down at her sweet ass, so full and round as she looked over her shoulder at him, something shifted in him. He’d like to say it was a gentlemanly determination to go slow, give her everything she needed. It wasn’t.

What shifted in him was whatever tie he had to civilization. The mine that roared through him at that moment was so strong, so visceral, that he couldn’t even begin to lie to himself about being a modern man. This need, this sense of being a part of her was too real to be anything other than primal.

“Frankie,” she said, the plea in her voice going straight to his balls. “Please.”

Who was he to deny her? As if he could deny her anything.

Pulse pounding, he knelt down, lined up with her wet folds, and slid home for the first time in his life without a condom.

Fucking A. Sensation jolted him down to his toes as he sank deeper and deeper into her welcoming warmth. It was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. Correction. She was like no woman he’d ever known. The instinct and need to pull back out so he could plunge inside her again had a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, but he wasn’t ready to give her up yet. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever would be.

However, Lucy—being Lucy—took matters into her own hands, pumping herself forward and back against his dick, controlling the pace and the depth as he reveled in the sweet torture of it all.

“You feel so fucking good,” he managed to get out before she stole his breath again with a figure eight move with her hips.

“I could ride this cock all night. I’m gonna come so hard on you.”

Her unrestrained honesty flipped a switch inside him, reminding him this wasn’t just about how his dick was feeling. This was something more, something he couldn’t put into words yet. So he tightened his grip on the soft flesh of her hips, bringing her back hard against him. And when she let out an answering moan of approval, he did it again and again until she was meeting him stroke for stroke, giving him everything. It nearly broke him seeing how beautiful she was at that moment, her lust unfurled like a flag and flown for all to see. Then, when he thought he couldn’t take another moment of delicious friction, she started begging in nonsensical words that conveyed more than any well-worded pleas could.

Closing his eyes, he fought against the climax building at the base of his spine and plunged inside her over and over, leaning forward to change the angle and deepen the stroke, until she let out a scream of pleasure and came on his cock, milking it as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body. It was all he could do to take measure of the moment before the string snipped and he lost the last thread of control, coming inside her so hard he lost himself in the sensation as she called his name.

By the time he’d come back to himself, he and Lucy were somehow sitting on the blanket. He had his back to the metal storage box, and she was sitting between his legs, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as he held her tight.

“I don’t care how old I live to be,” he said, dipping his head down and kissing his way up the long line of her neck. “I’m never forgetting that.”