Page 12 of Pregnant By the Playboy
As I take him in my mouth, need builds up inside me.
I grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it on, and then I sink down on his cock and release an unsteady breath.
Sex is different in the morning. There are no shadows to hide anything. Our pace is more languid. I ride him with deep, sensual strokes, palming my breasts; he can’t take his eyes off me.
I adjust my angle to get some friction from my clit rubbing against him.
Yes, that’s good.
My orgasm takes me by surprise. One moment I’m starting to get close, and the next, I’m over the edge, practically sobbing in pleasure, and Vince flips us over.
It takes me a minute to recover, and then, to my frustration, he stops moving.
“What’s your favorite movie?” he asks, grinning down at me.
“You bastard.” I try to roll us back over so I’m on top, but he’s too strong.
“I haven’t heard of that one. Is it recent?”
I’m not sure I’ve rolled my eyes when having sex before, but there’s a first time for everything.
“Come on, Vince.”
“Is that a movie about me? I suppose the title is appropriate.”
I shoot him a withering look.
“Okay, okay.”
He licks my nipple just the way I like it—he’s a quick study—before he begins thrusting again. God, he fills me just perfectly.
“I like you better when you’re doing, not talking,” I say, and he laughs.
We move in tandem until we tumble over the edge at the same time. Even though we haven’t known each other for long, it’s as though we’re already in sync.
When we collapse on our backs afterward, he says, “You have anything to do today?”
I shake my head.
“How about we make this a two-night stand instead?” He speaks with the confidence of a man who knows he won’t be turned down.
I want to wipe that smug smile off his face.
But even more than that, I want to spend more time with him.
I open my mouth to answer, but then his phone rings.
“Sorry, I have to get that.” He takes the call. “Hi, Po Po.”
His grandma. It’s rather charming that he’s interrupted our conversation for her.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll be there.” He gets up and starts casually walking around the room—in the nude—as he speaks to his grandmother. It seems wrong, but I won’t deny I’m enjoying the view. “That happened one time... One time! I promise, I won’t forget.”
A part of me finds it disorienting that he’s talking to his grandma in English. In fact, part of me is disoriented by the fact that Vince Fong has a family, period, even though I know a little about them. He’s just not the kind of guy you imagine talking to his mom or grandma.
“No, you didn’t wake me up,” he continues, “but I can’t talk for long... Yes... I know. I know... Okay. Bye.”
When he ends the call, I see the background picture on his screen before he turns it off. Perhaps there’s a lot I don’t know about Vince.
