Page 132 of The Dixon Rule

“What are you two up to?” Marnie chirps.

I’m getting fucked as we speak, I almost blurt out.

I can’t decide if this is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me or the hottest. My breathing quickens. Shane’s dick is buried inside me. And this couple is standing below us, chatting as if I’m not about to have an orgasm in front of them.

“Diana and I were arguing about whether or not that’s Orion’s belt or a random cluster of stars.” He points above our heads. “I think it’s a random cluster. She’s certain it’s Orion.”

Dave and Marnie crane their necks toward the dark sky.

I assumed that was a ruse on Shane’s part to give him an opportunity to pull out, but he doesn’t. He stays lodged inside me. His hand imperceptibly grazes my hip. I shiver. I rock back against him ever so softly and hear a muffled curse.

“Nope. Sorry, Diana, it’s not Orion’s belt,” Dave confirms. “You lose.”

No, I think I win. Because holy shit, this feels so good.

“Anyway, maybe we can play doubles some time,” Marnie says with a bright smile. She holds up her tennis racket.

“Yeah, for sure,” Shane says easily.

“Wonderful. Anyway, enjoy the rest of your night,” she says, and then they meander off, moving too slow for my comfort.

Once they’re gone, Shane folds his arms around my chest and walks us backward into the apartment. This time, he shuts the balcony door.

“You’re evil,” I accuse. “Do you think they knew?”

“Oh, they had no idea. They’re the most clueless couple I’ve ever met in my life. Plus, I don’t think they remember what sex is. I heard Dave telling Ralph in the gym the other day that they’re in a dead bedroom.”

“Aw, that’s sad.”

He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Can we stop talking about Dave and Marnie’s lack of a sex life and focus on the fact that I’m inside you right now?”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” I give him an innocent smile.

That gets me a smack on the ass. He pushes me toward the couch and bends me over so I’m draped across the arm.

“Sorry, baby. This is going to be fast.”

“That’s okay,” I say, and grip one of the sofa cushions as he starts fucking me again.

It’s a punishing rhythm, hips snapping, filling me with long, deep strokes that bring black dots to my vision. My pelvis grinds against the couch. I couldn’t stop the orgasm even if I tried. It’s almost overwhelming, waves of release crashing into me until I’m a puddle of orgasmic mush. I hear him groan as he spills inside me. We’re both gasping for air.

We stay in that position, catching our breath. God. It only gets better with this man. It’s not fair. He’s not supposed to be this good at sex.

Finally, he pulls out with the utmost gentleness.

“Stay right there,” he says gruffly. “I’ll go grab something to clean you up.”

It’s a reminder that we didn’t use a condom, and I realize that’s why my brain short-circuited. Sex without a condom hits different for me. It’s just too mind-blowing.

After we’ve cleaned up, Shane asks if I want to get under a blanket and watch a movie, but I shake my head.

“No,” I say. “We might fall asleep.”

“So?”

“So we’re not doing the whole spending-the-night thing,” I remind him. I gesture around my living room. “This is my space.” I point to the wall that separates our apartments. “That’s your space.” I point to our genitals. “And this is our space.”

Shane snickers. “Got it. Friends with benefits. Sleeping over—not a benefit.”

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