Page 42 of How to Date a Younger Man
My hands grasp at his firm, muscular back, fighting for purchase. Any awareness of what I look like or even what my fucking name is fades away, leaving nothing but white-hot pleasure in its wake. With every move he makes, something swells inside me, and I can’t help the moans and sighs that escape from deep within.
Just as I’m about to reach my peak, he pulls me on top of him without missing a beat. I’m about to protest until I realize this position has its advantages. My center aligns perfectly with his thick manhood, and I shamelessly grind myself all over him.
A deep groan vibrates in his throat as he watches me with a dark, hooded gaze.
His hands skim up my sides, and he palms the weight of my breasts, pinching one nipple. All at once, an orgasm crashes over me. Arching my spine so my hair falls back over my shoulders, I inhale sharply and plant my hands against his firm abs to ground myself.
Coming down from the natural high with a groan, I slide off of him and onto my side, my back to him. He chuckles into my shoulder—which somehow turns me on even more. Without saying a word, he spoons me in a way that makes me feel calm and safe and protected, his arms encircling my body as his hand explores the terrain.
We lie like that for a little while longer while my breathing slows.
“That was amazing,” I say, breathless.
“We’re just getting started,” he whispers, one hand dipping between my legs while the other massages my breast. Pleasure riots through me, making my heart pound. He works his fingers over my needy center until my breath grows ragged and I’m practically begging him to let me come again.
“Griff . . . please,” I whisper, turning and crushing my mouth to his over my shoulder.
Reaching behind me, I take him in my hand, my fingers barely meeting around his shaft. He groans as I begin my mission of making him feel as good as he’s making me.
“Fuck, that’s so good,” he murmurs, clearly enjoying himself, but his fingers don’t waver for a second.
He pushes one thick finger inside me, and I shudder around him, doing my best to stay focused. He pushes in a second, and I yelp as he begins pumping, timing his movements with mine. With his free hand, he rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, reducing me to a moaning, whimpering mess.
Griffin thrusts into my fist, his hot breath on my neck. There’s sensation everywhere.
Suddenly, I can’t take it—another orgasm rips through my center at the same time his erupts from him. Our bodies quake together as wave after wave of pleasure consumes us until we collapse onto the bed, chests heaving, beads of sweat dotting our foreheads.
We lie there in silence for a while. Our breathing evens out, and he tucks his arm under my head as I curl up next to him.
I haven’t had sex like that since . . .
Who am I kidding? I’ve never had sex like that, let alone sex like that without penetration.
Sure, I’ve been with guys who were good in bed, but no one has ever come anywhere close to what just happened. I didn’t just feel cherished . . . I felt fucking worshipped. No man has ever been so attentive to my needs before, so careful and controlled while still being totally wild.
Griffin shifts behind me and pulls a few tissues from a box beside the bed, and then I feel him wiping away the mess he made on my lower back and butt. When he’s done, he tugs me close again.
A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as I lift my chin to study his profile, a hint of a shadow of stubble perfectly defining his jaw. As if he could sense me watching him, he turns and looks at me, his blue-green eyes piercing mine.
“You were . . .” I pause, and a stupid smile spreads across my face while I try to find the right word.
“Incredible? Mind-blowing? Absolutely the best you’ve ever had?” he says, the grin on his face matching mine.
“Oh, shut up. I was going to say decent,” I tease, swatting his chest and fake rolling my eyes.
“Decent? You came three times. I think I earned more than decent.”
His eyes dance like they only do when he’s teasing me, and normally that would make my blood boil. But this time, my blood’s boiling for an entirely different reason.
“Fine,” I say, resting my chin on his chest. “You were good. Like, too good. Are you sure they weren’t paying you to give your clients a little extra attention at that massage job?”
He chuckles, brushing his fingertips along my bare arm. “If that were the case, you would have been the first to know.”
