Page 16 of Van Cort
“Yes.”
“Look at me.” She swings her head back to me slowly. “Ask me to come in.”
“I just did.”
“No. You told me I didn’t have to stay here. I’d rather a very sure statement issued before I commit to any amount of crossing that threshold.”
I see her breath catch as she looks to Andre. I don’t know why. Perhaps she isn’t comfortable asking me to fuck her in front of another man.
“This makes for a very awkward change in atmosphere.”
“Probably, but I still want you to say it.” She looks back at him again. He hasn’t moved an inch, nor will he. “It’s not like I’m getting you to sign an NDA, Andie. They’re just words.” The fact that he’ll be recording this part of the night isn’t relevant.
“Okay.” She looks back at me again. “Yes, I’d like you to come in with me.”
“For sex?”
Her eyes widen. “Good god, Everett.”
“Say it.”
“Yes. For sex. Possibly. Although with this change in direction, I’m not sure I’m feeling quite so enthused.” I reach over to touch the back of her neck, enough pressure pushed onto her skin that she flinches but yields. Our mouths meet. Sweet at first, gentle, something I’ve learned is useful, but the pressure builds to tongues, and then to her hand on my chest, and then mine on her shoulder.
“Enthused enough?” I murmur. She giggles, then moans.
“Yes.”
“Get in the apartment.”
I hold my hand up to Andre as we get out, indicating he should wait.
The doors get opened hurriedly, and the path through her space leads us straight to a bedroom. I barely look at it. I’m intent on getting laid and not much else. Clothes are stripped while we’re kissing, and my hands wander over her skin briefly – touching, feeling, enjoying its texture. It’s soft, silken, yet not flawless. Which, for me, is an interesting moment to consider.
I smile through our mouths and hold her tighter, letting my fingers dip to her panties so I can get on with what needs doing. She moulds to me – not questioning, not fighting. She just lets me move her and use her until my fingers are buried deep and she’s moaning and yearning.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” She gasps a little and brings her eyes back to mine, tension stilling her fingers on my shoulder. “Don’t play coy. We’re both here for one thing. I want you to say my name.”
“Jeez.” She pants and I slide my hand down her arm and reach for her hand, putting it between us so she can find my dick.
“Tell me.”
“Yes.” She nods, feathering her palm around me. “Yes, I want you inside me, Everett.”
None of the rest takes long. Why should it? We’re both being adults. She wants fucking, and I need to fuck. There isn’t any sentiment on my part, nor will there be. It’s perfunctory. I do whatever I need to do to get myself off with a fucking condom in my way, and I have a little fun with making sure she gets a few orgasms too. She moans well, and, with a little help from my over-exuberant mouth, she starts getting some curse words out. They’re good and dirty, and that straight-laced little financial analyst I’ve been having dinner with melts away to a damn fine fuck.
She’s exceptional really. Perfectly put together.
Perfect to fuck.
Her hair – long and golden – stays fisted in my hand when I take her from behind. And her mouth – lush and wanton – stays wide and panting for breaths when I’m not using it to kiss. I find myself enjoying the ride more than I thought I would, especially when she climbs over me and rains praises down on my stomach with her mouth. I watch her go lower, and lower, and wait for her attempt at sucking me off. Maybe she’ll get me hard again, or maybe I’ll make sure she does. Nothing comes of it, which, now I’ve thought about it, pisses me off. I want to announce that to her, but I don’t. I let her crawl back up me and drop more soft, sweet kisses on my mouth again until she’s satisfied with the end result and is curling up beside me.
Done.
I want to stiffen at the emotive contact – push her away. I don’t. I let her slumber on me and rest. Some memory in me enjoys the feel of having her there, but as my arm begins to think about tightening, and my eyes begin to think about resting, I force myself to stop both laments. I listen to her breathe instead, and, when I know she’s fully asleep, I get up quietly and leave.
It’s the best thing for both of us.
***
