Page 45 of Voice to Raise
Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.
I didn’t break. Far from it. On the heels of a mind-shattering blow-job-induced orgasm, I didn’t have huge expectations. Refractory periods were a thing. But one look from Malik and I was hard as a rock. As he fucked me, the need to come again overwhelmed me. Sent me higher and higher as I fought the urge. I didn’t want to come before him—that felt rude. That said, I might not have a say in the matter.
He reached between our bodies and grasped my cock. Then he gave it a couple of tugs. “I need you to come.” He said the words through gritted teeth. His jerking my shaft met the rhythm of his thrusts as he nailed me. Over and over. Higher and higher.
My skin felt too tight, and electricity arced through me. The sensations overwhelmed and, eventually, holding back becameimpossible. “I’m going to come.” The words were garbled, even to my own ears.
“Thank fuck. Do it, sweetheart. Come for me.”
Even as I came—all over his hand, my stomach, and everywhere else—he continued his thrusts. I soared into the air. The oxygen was stolen from my lungs. My vision narrowed even as my rigid body began to relax. I tingled everywhere as I tried to regulate my breathing. Tried to come down from this potent high.
His expression was a mask of concentration. His brow furrowed. Sweat sheened across his forehead. I thought about wiping it off, but then he thrust once more and held himself still. He howled his release as he arched his neck and threw his head back.
I’d never had a lover react so violently. Never had someone push me so hard and high. My own climax had waned—and my cock was finally flaccid—but I still felt energized. Still wanted to stay connected like this forever.
Tires screeched.
Forever? What the hell? One good fuck does not equal forever.
Right. My interior monologue was right. I couldn’t possibly be in love. Not with a man who drove me to distraction in all the wrong ways.
He flopped onto me.
I held him tight. He might’ve been shorter, but he was solid. Muscular. Probably heavier than me. In all the right ways. I cradled his legs between my thighs as I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He slid from inside me, and that empty feeling hit hard. I shouldn’t have been so needy—but I was. I shouldn’t want to do this again—but I did.
As his breathing regulated, I grasped the back of his neck and held him close.
“You can touch my hair.” His tone was wry.
“I’d never touch without permission.” To me, hair was personal. That space that gave us freedom to express who we were.
“I just said you could. I don’t know why you’d want to. It’s rough.”
Experimentally, I touched. And yes, the hair was of a different texture than mine—slightly rougher and way curlier. On impulse, I grasped it and gave a little tug.
A shudder ran through his body. “Fuck, I love that so much. When someone pulls my hair, it makes me hard.”
I chuckled. “So soon? Oh, to be that young.”
He pressed his nose against me chin. Then he replaced the nuzzling with a light kiss. Finally, he bit. Not hard—but enough to get my attention.
“What did you do that for?”
“You’re not old, and even I can’t get hard thirty seconds after the best orgasm of my life.”
I couldn’t dissect his words with clarity.
Okay, he didn’t find me old. I did, but we could debate the point later.
He wasn’t going to get hard again in the next minute but, more importantly, he’d told me he loved having his hair pulled. Definitely something to keep in mind for another day.Best orgasm of my life.How was I supposed to respond? That it had been the same for me? That I didn’t ever want to let him go—even though that made no sense?
For the first time, I became aware of the rain lashing against the window. “Well, appears the meteorologist was correct—that sounds like quite a storm.”
“You biked, right? I seem to remember…” He trailed off as if thinking rationally was beyond him.
I had sex brain as well. “Yeah. I just live over in Mount Pleasant, so I often bike.”
“Downhill on the way to work and uphill on the way home.” He said the words dryly.
