Page 67 of Forty

“No one wants to hear about the forty to fifty percent of the dates that you banged.”

He snorts, still laughing, and he stands, cradling my bare ass, as if my weight is nothing. He steps out of the tub and heads for the back door.

“Hey! We were hot tubbing!”

“We can hot tub again after.”

“After what?”

“After you get lucky.”

“Oh, I’m getting lucky, am I?” With each step, I’m bouncing against his dick, and it’s hard again, like steel, and I wrap my legs tight against his waist, let my slickness coat him. Butterflies go crazy in my belly. This is it. This is happening.

He carries me up the grand stairs, down to the master bedroom.

“If you feel like you’re gonna freak out, tell me. Slap my head or something.”

“Slap your head?” I giggle as he drops me on the bed and does a push up over me, urging my thighs to part with his knees. He strokes the inside of my arms, drawing them up beside my head, and he drops light kisses down the blue vein that runs from my wrist to my elbow.

I squirm. The head of his cock brushes my clit. I moan.

When his mouth reaches my shoulder, he nips it, and I shriek. Shivers zing up my neck and race down my spine. I’m covered in sensation. The heft of his body pressing me into the comforter. The smell of him and the scrape of my nipples across his chest every time I draw in a deep breath. The dimness of late evening, and the chilly breeze coming through the French door we left open.

The wanting, hungry grunts he makes as I writhe, chasing his cock, working my knees higher so he’ll fill me up where I ache. I want to be lost. Totally. Utterly. In him.

“You can do it. It’s okay. I’m good.” I’m begging him, urging him with my rolling hips, and he’s lazily kissing my neck and stroking his rough fingers down my side, tickling me gently ‘til I wriggle, and then roaming with his hands over my belly, cupping my tits.

“Come on, Forty. Do it.” I’m panting. I’m dripping cream, and I can’t reach my clit because he’s taking up all the room.

“Do what?”

He nibbles the crook of my neck and nudges my pussy with the head of his cock. I buck to take him in, but he draws back, and I can’t follow because his chest is pressing mine, and our fingers are entwined above my head, and he’s kissing me, tasting me with his tongue.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs into my mouth.

“Fuck me. Please. Forty. Please.”

And he cradles a thigh, lifts my leg to open me up, and slides home, slow and steady, stretching me, and it feels so good, so right, and he’s kissing me in time with his thrusts, and in between, he’s whispering in my ear.

“I love you, baby.”

“Does that feel good?”

“I missed you, baby. So goddamn bad.”

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

My heart fills up and overflows, and as the coiling in my belly tightens and bursts, and I squeeze his cock, and he cums inside me, I thinkI love you, too.I always have. I never stopped. I never will. Not ever.

I’ll tell him about the car tomorrow. He’ll understand. I had to do it. He wasn’t going to give me a chance. It was only a dumb prank. A ruse to get him to give me the time of day. He’ll understand. He’s different now. I’ll tell him I was the one who carved up the hood of my Hyundai first thing in the morning.

I’ll feed him first. He’ll be cool about it. It’ll be a laugh, not a betrayal.

He holds me for hours, tickling me, teasing me, and we nap, and then we wake up and do it again. Around eleven, I fall into a deep sleep.

---