Page 89 of David

He listened to his instincts. And his instincts were right, while my intuition was completely off, lolling around, not paying attention.

Part of it hinted at what might happen while the voice of reason gave me some good advice, but I ignored it and all the signs, so here I am.

My tits bounce like wild horses as I rock my body on top of his.He palms and squeezes them hard, tilting his hips, penetrating me harder.

Sweet moans tear off my lips.

“You’re good,” he drawls. “Filthy like a perfect harlot,” he says, sending me straight over the edge.

Who knew him talking dirty to me would do me in?

The tension spikes as my hands claw at his shoulders.

He pushes his hips higher, and my rhythm increases, chasing that perfect moment.

I couldn’t be happier with the outcome.

Shudder after shudder of long–repressed desire rams through me deliciously, satisfying, while my lungs pump air like this is the end of me.

I’m right past my high when his eyes darken, his pupils enlarging, his focus gone.

He grabs my hips and goes alone on the last foot of our journey.

Disconnected from me, enjoying my body, my throbbing, and my dripping wet center.

And it doesn’t take him long before, showing perfect control over his body, he rams into me a few more times and pulls me up seconds before coming.

My butt falls into a seat next to him while he wraps a strong fist around his hardness and slides it up and down until the motion becomes a blur.

He blasts his load, his eyes closed, his chest jerking up and down, his lips parted, his warm release landing on his pants, my coffee table, and the rug.

None of that matters.

Slumped back, I watch this beautiful man, who is still hard with his hand still moving up and down and his chest still heaving, having a moment of delight in my living room. With me here, witnessing it all, partly responsible for his pleasure.

And a part of me would love to know what he had in mind when he was taking that wild trip with his eyes closed.

14

DAVID

Sunday

David’s Hotel Room

As ridiculous as it sounds, someone is trying to break into my room.

First, they knock on the door and then mess with the lock.

Is that Julie?

They do it again.

Sprawled on the bed, lying on my stomach, I lift my head and glance outside.

The sun is up. Way up. It must be ten or eleven.

I roll to my back, my arm folded across my face, blocking the sun.

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