SEXT

He locks eyes with me as we fuck, flattens one palm against my belly to keep hold of me and lifts the other to run through my hair. He brushes it off my face, then grabs a fistful and pulls me into a deep kiss, his tongue invading my throat as he continues to fuck me.

It doesn’t take long for the sensations to build toward a peak, my clit still sensitive to the point of almost feeling sore from my orgasm earlier. He bends down to kiss my neck, my ear, then tilts my head back, exposing my throat for him to run his tongue along.

“Fuck, Clove,” he hisses again. I tighten my pussy, clench around him, and he groans aloud.

Then, without warning, he pulls back. Grabs both of my ankles and flings them up over his shoulders, all the while still fucking me, his balls slapping against my ass. I arch my hips, and with my legs over his shoulders, he’s fucking me from below, so his cock drags along my front inner wall, his tip slightly curved upward, running right over my G-spot. I cry out, the cry dissolving into a moan as he continues to fuck me hard.

“God, I’m going to come. Zayne. Zayne,” I repeat, muscles clenched, hands in fists around his biceps.

“Come for me baby,” he growls, and relief floods me for a moment. If he’d asked me to stop, to hold it back like last time, I don’t know that I could have. I’m already right at the brink, speeding toward it, and his thick cock against my G-spot isn’t helping me fight it.

“Fuck,” I cry out, right as the orgasm hits. Every nerve ending in my body sparks, and my pussy spasms around his cock, the muscles clenching and releasing in quick succession as I come hard around him.

For his part, he moans and keeps thrusting, his hands on my calves now, gripping hard as he fucks up against me. The orgasm keeps going, lingers, and it starts to build again almost straight away, and I moan aloud, the pleasure so intense it borders on painful, but in the best possible way. I want him to fuck me forever.

He sees me twist and writhe beneath him, feels the way I tighten again around his cock. He lets go of my leg with one hand and reaches down to stroke my clit within easy reach of his hand. He grins as he does, taking in my pleasure, enjoying knowing how hot he gets me.

I scream this time, louder, as the second orgasm washes through me. He keeps stroking my clit, even as I jerk and twist beneath him. And then he drops his hand, drops my legs back down to the couch and lies along me, our bodies flush, as he fucks me harder. His cock plunges in and out of me, and his balls hit my ass hard on every thrust.

I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck.

“Fuck, Clove, I’m going to come.”

“Come for me,” I murmur into his ear.

He pulls my head back, looks straight into my eyes as he finishes, groaning deep in his throat, a desperate sound that’s almost a growl. I love that, love the desperate look in his eyes, the way his body shakes in my arms.

When he finally collapses against me, we keep our arms around one another, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. I can feel his heartbeat hammering, and my own pounding back against it, our chests pressed together. When he finally leans back to catch my eye again, we both laugh, half-delirious.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs before he kisses me again, softer this time. More sensitive.

“I know,” I whisper when we break apart once more. Our eyes lock, and there’s something about him, about his eyes, his touch… the way that felt.

When he pulls out of me, I have to fight the urge to let out a sigh of protest. I want him back inside me already; I want to stay as close to him as possible, both of us basking in the aftermaths of our orgasms.

Luckily he doesn’t stay apart from me for long. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me through the apartment, toward his bedroom. It’s a different layout than mine, I notice, a little larger, more open-plan. I like it. And he’s decorated it well too, not like the typical bachelor pad. It’s all modern designs and simple, tasteful furniture.

Then I forget about the apartment, because he’s setting me down on the bed and curling in beside me, and I’m lost in his kiss again.

A few minutes later, we lie side-by-side on our backs, staring up at his ceiling, still breathless, our bodies slick with sweat, sticking together.

“Bet you never expected your doorman could do that,” Zayne says, a little smirk dancing across his lips.