Page 33 of Fated Shot

Hurried breaths continue as she keeps her pace, my hands firmly on her hips, dropping her down harder on my dick each time. “I’m going to—”

I swallow her cry in my mouth and let out a groan, the tug in my stomach growing as I feel her squeezing, milking me as she rides out her orgasm. I can’t resist the growing pleasure that comes barrelling out of me. Giving one final thrust upward, I spill into her. Lasting a total of three minutes—not my best work, but the fuck do I care. I plan on multiple repeat performances. Practice makes perfect.

I stay holding her as we catch our breath. After a few moments, she lifts herself off of me. I stand up, throwing the condom in the garbage. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes still hazy, but when she spots me, she stands, starting to gather the clothes we flung around the room.

“I should go,” she starts.

No.I intercept her, interlacing her hand in mine.

“It’s still early.” Does she seriously think I’m going to let her walk out of here just like that? “We could watch a movie or something…” I add, turning to open the top drawer and grabbing a sweatshirt and sweats.

She’s got her arms crossed around her stomach now, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. I hand the clothes over to her.

“If— you, uh, want to get more comfortable.”

Confusion flickers across her face as she hesitantly grabs the clothes from me.

“You want me to stay?”

Fuck yes, I do. “I want you to stay.”

I can’t help but grin when she nods. “Just for a bit.” I race around the room, grabbing all her clothes and handing them to her before throwing on my own.

Her timid energy returns front and center as her face blazes under my gaze. She’s still flushed, slowly regaining her breathing, and I’m tempted to suggest a round two but decide not to push my luck.

“I’ll let you change,” I say, turning toward the stairs. “I’m gonna order pizza. What kind do you like?” I call up from the bottom step.

There’s silence, and I worry she’s changed her mind, but she reappears at the top of the stairs. Her hair is pulled into a bun, my sweatshirt draped over her body. She opted for her jeans instead of my sweatpants, but the sight is fucking breathtaking regardless.

“Anything, really.”

***

The doorbell rings, and I pause the show, frantically racing to shield her eyes.

“Don’t even think about looking at that screen, no extra analyzing.”

“I don’t need to. I already know which one it is,” she says with a knowing smile, pushing herself off the couch.

“There’s no way,” I say, following her cue and standing up.

“Stop.” She places her hand on my chest, pushing me back onto the couch. “It’s my turn to pay.” She walks over to grab her purse that she left at the door.

I settle back into the couch, smirking. Two minutes later, she comes huffing back with the large pizza box. “You already paid.”

“Yep.”

“Can I e-transfer you at least?”

“Nope.”

She sighs, setting the box on the table and turning to face me. “You don’t have to pay for me, you know.”

“I know.”

“I can pay for my own stuff.”

“I know you can.”

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