Page 24 of Dirty Tricks

A heel lightly kicks against my backside, teasing out a surprised laugh.

“If I wanted you to stop,” she grumbles, “I’d ask you. Now, do it again.”

I comply, tensing as I pinch over the hard bud, this time concentrating enough to feel the way her muscles ripple against my cock as I she gives a cry again; pleasure mixed in with the pain.

My mouth fastens over the injured nipple, tongue stroking it, lapping like a kitten as I take away the sting. The awkward bend of my neck as I strain to reach it allows me to slow my pace, to widen the experience at the same time I deepen it.

When I lift my head, her fingers explore my face, slipping inside my mouth where I suckle them, giving a playful bite, judging how hard she can take it from her whimper. Then she steals my hand, her open mouth against my palm, licking and sucking, wet and warm with her tongue surprisingly rough. “Fuck, I want to eat you up,” she says with a moan before she bites into the curve of my neck, sending a spark of pure electricity zapping down to lodge deep in my balls.

The catch of unbridled lust in her husky voice sends another wave of arousal cascading through my body.

With one arm, I support her, keeping her body where I need it, changing angles at her encouragement. My opposite hand braces against the bench, our joint rhythm becoming so frantic I expect the walls to shake, the floor to split apart with a jagged rent, accompanied by an earthquake sized rumble.

“I love the taste of you,” Lexa murmurs, licking along the underside of my chin, an unexpected erogenous zone. Then she nuzzles against my ear, her panting breaths filling my world. Her whisper is barely audible, “I’m close.”

Knowledge that catapults me forward in my own journey, until I strain to hold back, to make sure I don’t cheat her. Don’t take my pleasures at the cost of hers.

But as much as I want to hold back, to make the experience last forever, the urgency is already building to a crescendo. Even when I hold still, my cock pulses, jumping in time with her clenching muscles, hauling me closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you…?”

A series of short, fluttering convulsions takes hold of her before I can complete the question. “I’m coming,” she whispers as her shudders pick up strength. Her soft cry bounces across my ear drum while her rippling muscles tease my cock, playing with it, the sensation so good it wipes out all thoughts of what I was trying to say.

My stroke increases, finding a rhythm, experiencing a buildup of pure joy as my mouth seeks hers, as my lips crush against her mouth.

I devour everything she gives me while my hips pump, thrusting my cock deep into her until my balls tighten, my arm clamps around her like a vice, my release shoots high into her waiting body.

A roar tears loose from my chest as I thrust again, for one final time, then scoop her arse into my hands, not wanting to soften, to shrivel, to slip out of her. Wanting to stay hard forever, buried deep inside her warm wet home.

I laugh but could just as easily sob. There are too many emotions, I can’t process them. I clutch her like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver.

“That was…” I begin and can’t finish, the sounds turning into nonsense in my throat, being swallowed before I gasp in another breath of air.

Her hands bunch in my shirt, dragging me to her mouth for another soul-baring kiss.

“I didn’t…” my voice chokes to a halt again, but this time I forcibly swallow and keep going. “I didn’t use protection.”

The soft laugh puffs across my cheek, instantly contagious. “I know,” she whispers like she’s telling a secret. “I’m the one who put you inside me.”

And the words hit my funny bone, convulsing me double with laughter. The joy finding a comfortable resting place there, tossed on the waves of mirth.

Lexa laughs with me, then we both stop, falling silent as someone tries the handle to the room, bangs their frustrated palm on the door, then walks away, cursing.

“I think that’s our signal to leave,” she whispers, and I wish we didn’t have to. I wish we could stay here, safe in the dark, our bodies entwining, our arms wrapped around each other.

But I obediently straighten, buttoning, tucking, stretching, adjusting my clothes until they feel like they’re back in order. Helping Lexa to find her underwear, her blouse and blazer.

“Can I turn on my phone light?” she asks and for a minute I can’t work out why she’d seek my permission.

Then I understand.

She’s asking if I’m okay for her to see my face.

I want to reach for the mask, to get under cover, not throw down a bet when I might lose everything.

Instead, I say, “Okay.”

The beam is directed at the wall, not at our faces, but we both still wince as the harsh white light fills the room. Lexa quickly adjusts the buttons on her blouse, finding the right holes and pulling on her blazer.

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