Page 81 of Fierce-Michael

“Hey,” he said. “Your hair isn’t damp.”

“I didn’t wash it,” she said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs. “But maybe I didn’t dry off enough in other places.”

They got behind her door and he turned her and had her back against the wall, his mouth to hers.

“I can’t get enough of you at times.”

“The same,” she said. “The couch. It’s closer.”

“It’s small,” he said, pulling her shirt over her head.

“We can make do. Sit down. I’ll get on top.”

She was undoing her pants and dropping them down quickly, then kicking them away.

He did the same and flung his shirt off and onto the floor.

There was a condom in his hand that she’d taken out and nudged him to the couch to sit.

She got on her knees, opened the condom, rolled it down fast, then hopped up and spread her legs around his hips and sat down, savoring the fullness inside of her.

Sometimes she needed to just sit and feel. It was better than movement.

He wrapped his hand around her hair, crushing his mouth to hers.

She loved it when he did that. When he got a little rough and didn’t always worry he might hurt her.

There were times she was positive he held back and she’d told him not to do that.

She started to rise up and down, his hips lifting to meet and retreat with her.

They had a rocking motion going on her little sofa and she hoped it held up enough.

She sat back down and just started to squeeze him with her muscles again. She knew he liked it. She did too.

He knew what she was doing. Slowing them down.

Must be he didn’t want that because in the next second he was turning her on her back, him on one knee, one arm under one of her legs lifting it high and spreading her more, his hips thrusting into her like a man on a mission to possess every part of her.

Whatever she did to make him lose control like this, she was going to bottle it for the future.

Her arms went around his neck and she held on and let him take over.

She was screeching louder than normal, his mouth coming down to contain her. Her neighbors should thank her boyfriend for that, as the walls weren’t that thick here.

The couch was moving though, she heard it on the floor but didn’t want to tell him to stop.

She was building up for that high climax she always got with him and started to lift her hips to grind against him.

His motions were hard and jerky at this point. The finesse he normally had gone.

She didn’t have time to think of why when everything in her just exploded at once without warning.

He followed suit and then dropped down on top of her, panting.

“I might need another shower after that. I’m sweating again.”

“I probably should clean up too,” he said. “We could take it together.”

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