Page 68 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“Fuck my mouth. Do it.”
She’d also gotten bossier, and he loved that too.
The headboard rattled against the wall as he thrust into her throat, and even as she choked, she squeezed his ass, urging him on. Was this punishment or pleasure? Maybe she thought she needed both. And after years of radio silence, maybe she deserved both.
Marc’s balls tightened, then released as he finally let go. She took it all—his cum, his heart, his sanity.
Her eyes watered as he withdrew.
“You okay?” he whispered, and there was that regret again.
“You think I’d have let you do that if I wasn’t? Tell me you have a condom.”
“I have a condom.” A whole box, in fact. “I swear I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone, though.”
“Not my business if you did.”
“It is. My assistant packed my bag. And for the record, I never stopped loving you.”
“You should have.”
“This isn’t a hate-fuck, Phae. Don’t try to turn it into one.”
She glared at him through narrowed eyes, then tossed her hair and huffed.
“Fine.”
“I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
Sinking into Phae was like coming home after half a lifetime away. He knew her body, and she knew his. Knew that he liked to see her ride him, angling her hips to bring her G-spot into play. His fingers found her clit on autopilot, pressing and circling as she threw back her head.
Marc watched her every second, needing to memorise each twitch of her lips, each ripple of her muscles. Her body was harder now, tougher, tauter. Little scars had appeared, and he traced one on her thigh with a fingertip.
“What happened?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and glanced down. “That one? Shrapnel.”
“And this one?” His fingertip found a pale white line on her arm.
“I didn’t get out of the way of a knife fast enough. Relax, that was a long time ago.”
Phae ground down on him, and the second orgasm was sweeter than the first. Her muscles clenched, milking every drop of cum from his cock as he pulled her forward and peppered her cheeks with kisses.
“How can I ever relax again?”
“You want me to get the masseuse back?”
“I do not.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to take a different approach.”
New Phae had stamina. She fucked him into exhaustion, on the bed, against the wall, in the shower. Finally, as the sun crept over the horizon, his eyelids grew heavy, and he gathered her close, her head resting on his chest as he kissed her damp hair.
“I hate that I still love you,” she murmured. Or at least, he thought she did. Perhaps he was dreaming?
“Why?”
“Feelings make life so much harder.”
