Page 71 of Sharing Shane

“Harder,” she rasped, and he obliged, pulling her wide until his entire view was her inner labia, pink and gleaming wet, and the darker, wetter red of her pretty hole.

“Just like that, oh shit, oh fuck,” she whispered, and her hips started to roll.

He gave up on directing her and just kept his head still and his tongue out, letting her fuck his face. She ground against him, hips moving in quick jerks now as she’d found the right spot. He heard the thump of her head hitting the wall and nearly lifted her off him to make sure she was okay. But then the words started, fuck and oh, god and shit, shit, shit, whispered so low he could barely hear it with her thighs clamped around his head.

Her body shifted and her fingers bumped into his, and he realized she’d reached down and back and had grabbed onto her ass, pulling the cheeks apart hard while he held her labia spread wide. Her breath began to stutter, her words getting more and more garbled as she bore down.

Then she froze above him, her cunt planted firmly on his face, his tongue buried so deep inside her that he felt the contractions of her orgasm start. Then she was wailing and shaking and he concentrated on not moving, letting her grind it out on his face until she collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied heap, held up only by his face under her and the wall in front.

He moved his hands to her waist, shifting her carefully to lie on top of him, shaking and shivering, little sighs breaking from her throat. He stroked her back, her hair until she’d quieted and stopped shaking, and she lifted her head to stare at him from slumberous eyes.

“Shit,” she said, a tinge of awe in her tone. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life. I can’t move.”

“Eventually, you have to,” he told her. “I’m still wearing the condom.”

“Oh.” She wriggled, grimacing. “Is that the clammy thing poking me in the hip?”

“Yes,” he said, “and stop wiggling or it’s going to come off, then we’ll have to ask housekeeping for a new duvet cover.”

Her opinion of that was a succinct “Ew”, and she carefully lifted herself up and off, collapsing on the mattress beside him on her belly, a limp tangle of sweaty limbs.

She waved a hand limply in the air. “Condom. Garbage. Go.”

He snorted and heaved himself off the bed, one hand clamped around the now dangling condom to keep it—and its contents—from falling to the floor, and padded to the bathroom. He disposed of the condom, then did a quick clean-up before dampening a washcloth and carrying it back to the bed.

She hadn’t moved except to close her eyes, and those didn’t even flutter when he tapped her shoulder. “Roll over,” he instructed, lips twitching when she obeyed by shifting to her back in an inelegant sprawl. “You okay, there?”

He stroked the washcloth over her torso. “That feels nice,” she sighed and opened her eyes to slits. “You perform this service for all the women you hook up with on vacation?”

“Part of the package,” he grunted and she giggled, making her breasts jiggle. Her belly rippled as he dragged the cloth down, and he raised a brow at her. “What’s so funny?”

“I just love how as soon as the sex is over, you go back to communicating in grunts.”

“Glad I could amuse you,” he replied. He reached her thighs with the cloth, and his lips twitched when they fell open with barely a nudge. He wiped her down slowly and carefully before flipping the washcloth over and moving on to her thighs and calves. When he was done, he took the cloth back to the bathroom, rinsed it out, and laid it over the edge of the tub to dry.

He was back in the bedroom and pulling on a pair of clean shorts when he noticed she hadn’t moved. “You going to sleep?”

“I could.” The gold and green flecks in her eyes were muted, hazy and soft with contentment. “I’m so relaxed, it’d be a short trip to sleepy town.”

“Still pretty early,” he pointed out. “Want to watch a movie?”

Surprise chased some of the softness from her eyes. “Okay. Can I wear your T-shirt?”

“Sure.” He started to dig out a clean one, but she picked up the one he’d stripped off earlier and slipped it over her head. It settled halfway down her thighs, clinging to her hips and ass in a way that made his gut clench.

She dragged her hands through her hair and gave him a sleepy smile as she padded past him to the couch. By the time he’d pulled on a shirt and joined her, she was curled up in the corner of the huge sectional, remote in hand.

“Ooh, there’s a horror movie channel,” she enthused, then scowled when he reached out and stole the remote. “Hey!”

“No horror movies,” he told her firmly, settling in beside her.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like them,” he muttered, pointing the remote at the flat screen.

“Do you get scared?” she asked teasingly.

“Yes,” he said baldly. “The last time I saw a horror movie I didn’t sleep for almost a week.”

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