Page 13 of Turning Tides
“Please…”
He begged so fucking prettily, how could I possibly refuse? Shane was flushed and sweat-soaked and fucking trembling. His skin was tinted pink from the tips of his ears down to the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck.
“Such a pretty slut.” I thrust harder, snapping my hips. Drawing on a reserve of energy I wasn’t sure I’d had a minute ago. Holy shit it had been forever since I’d been this fucking keyed up. Shane was a sight underneath me, bulky and begging. He turned his head and looked at me. He was a fucking wreck. A ruin. And I’d done that to him.
He reached for me, the fingers on his left hand brushed my leg, then found purchase. “Feels incredible.”
His eyes shut and I wanted to snap at him to look at me, to watch me as I filled his ass, but I bit back that particular urge. I jerked him faster, watching the way his eyebrows pinched together.
“So pretty.” Every muscle in my body screamed at me. Fatigue made my legs quake, but I was determined to make Shane come first. “My slut is so fucking hot for me, so wet.”
I stroked his cock, sliding my thumb over the head again. Shane bucked into the touch and I sped up.
Shane shattered when he came. He pressed back into me, begging for more of my cock as if I had more to give. His fingers dug into my leg like the spikes on a bear trap. He was sweaty perfection, trembling underneath me, filling my hand with his cum. Collapsing in a boneless heap, he quivered when I continued to stroke him with his own spend.
“Archer—please.”
“Please what?” I wanted to lean down and sink my teeth into him. But instead, I snapped my hips and chased my own release. Shane’s ass was still impossibly tight and hot and oh, God, so fucking good. I definitely didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. Maybe a one-time-a-day thing, but even that sounded insufficient. My sex life had been a famine and after being presented with a feast it was impossible to think of anything less.
I came so hard I saw stars. So hard my bones liquefied. My hips snapped a broken rhythm, thrusting deeper and deeper, filling the condom instead of the gorgeous ass. Next time. Next time I’d fill him with my cum and then fuck it out of him.
For now, I simply collapsed against his back, panting and heaving, spent and sated. My knees threatened to give way, but Shane’s body held me up as I recovered.
When lying there became uncomfortable, I carefully pulled out, making sure to take the condom with me in my retreat. I slipped it off and looked around for what to do with it.
Shane unfolded himself and took it from me, his cheeks still pink.
“I’ll take care of that.”
I wanted to thank him by climbing into his lap and kissing him stupid. But the moment for kissing had come and gone without me taking advantage. Maybe next time. There had to be a next time. Now that I’d had a taste of Shane, I wanted more. I wanted to learn all the little things that made him squirm.
He came back from disposing of the condom and reached for his pants. I did the same, because standing around with your dick out after a hookup was awkward as fuck.
Because I didn’t want the first thing one of us said to be about how we shouldn’t have done that, or how we shouldn’t do it again, I took a step toward Shane and tilted my head back. Reaching for him, Iwound my arms around his neck and was rewarded when he wrapped his arms around me in return.
And I took the kiss I’d forgotten to get before. Compared to what we’d just done, it was chaste. Sweet. Shane’s mouth was soft and he tasted of sugar. He moaned into my mouth and I ate that up. I wanted to consume him. Devour him.
Sex wasn’t a cure for shit, but I felt better than I had in weeks. All my problems were still there, and maybe I’d added a few more by fucking Cyrus’s boss, but none of that mattered. Not when I was soupy and sated and felt like I could curl up and have the first real sleep I’d had in ages.
Shane ended the kiss. “I have to get downstairs and get shit going.”
“I have to go pretend I know how to get my life back together.” I pulled away from Shane and tugged my shirt back on. Combing my fingers through my hair, I looked at him. “Do I look as freshly fucked as I feel?”
Shane lifted his hand and did a seesaw motion. “A little. But I think you’ll be fine.”
I reached for him and straightened his hair with my fingers, making him look more presentable. I didn’t want to ask if we could do this again because I didn’t want him to let me down easy. I didn’t want him to let me down at all. Shane felt like the first right thing in a shit-storm of wrong and I wanted to hold onto that for as long as I could.
“Better?” he asked.
Maybe he wasn’t going to say thank you, let’s not do this again. Maybe he’d enjoyed himself as much as I’d enjoyed myself. Although, there was that whole name-calling thing.
“You’re okay with what we did, right? The names and stuff? It just—” How did I tell him that calling him my slut felt right? I didn’t. I let my sentence hang and waited on eggshells for his response.
Shane bent and kissed me again. On the lips, the corner of the mouth, the side of my fucking neck. My bones threatened to turn to mush when his breath ghosted past my ear.
“Everything we did was fucking brilliant.”
He pulled away looking sheepish. Like it had cost him something to admit that to me.
