Page 55 of All in December
He’s panting under me. “So… good,” he gasps out, hips trembling.
My hand snakes around his front and finds his heavy balls. I cup them gently at first, then give them a sharp tug that makes him whimper and clench even tighter around me. His ignored cock is leaking and swollen, but I don’t give him relief. I want every bit of his pleasure to come from being full of me.
“Is my little slut gonna come on my cock?” I murmur, fucking him deeper now. “Gonna make a mess without a single touch?”
“Yes—mmm, yes, harder,” he pants, voice cracking with need.
I grunt, releasing his balls and grabbing his hips with both hands so I can drive into him harder, deeper, faster to give him everything he wants. The sound of skin slapping skin is the only noise in the room apart from our heavy breathing and pleasure-filled groans.
“There!” he cries out, head tipping back. “Right there, fuck, Nash—don’t stop.”
I’ve found the spot. The one that makes his whole body tremble, his thighs shake, and his ass pushes back like he can’t get enough. I fuck him right there against the window for anyone to see, just like he begged for, basking in the way his body unravels for me.
“Need… Fuck, need to touch myself. Please, let me?—”
“Go ahead, baby,” I growl into his ear, “come while I fuck you right here in front of all of Denver. Let them see how desperate you are for me. How much of a pretty little slut you are when you’re taking my cock.”
He whimpers and removes one hand from theglass, wrapping it around his leaking dick with urgency. He strokes himself in time with my thrusts, and within seconds, his whole body seizes, and he cries out as his orgasm hits. Hot cum paints the glass in front of him in thick pulses. And the second I feel his hole clench around me, milking my cock like it never wants to let go, I lose it.
“Fuck—Cay,” I groan, sinking deep and stilling as I empty into him, filling him with my release.
My arms wrap tightly around his waist, holding him there while we both gasp for air. His head falls back against my shoulder, still panting, and I can feel the aftershocks rippling through him.
“Jesus,” he breathes, voice shaky and sweet and ruined.
My cock is still inside him as I pull him to my chest. My hand slides up, fingers tilting his jaw until I can kiss him. It’s full of passion and everything I don’t know how to say out loud.Thank you. You’re perfect. I’ve got you. I can’t believe I found you. Can’t believe you’re mine.
When we finally break apart, he’s still panting, and he lets out a soft noise as I finally slide free from his body.
He’s flushed and marked and mine.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper, brushing the hair off his forehead. “Bath’s probably ready; let’s get you cleaned up.”
I hold out my hand, and he takes it, fingers curling around mine as I guide him toward the bathroom. I’m relieved to see the oversized tub filled just enough and not overflowing. Before I let him get in, I touch the water to make sure it’s not too hot, but it feels perfect.
“Okay, you can climb in. I’ll get in behind you.”
He glances back at me with a teasing tilt to his lips, undoing the tie still hanging loose around his neck and tossing it onto the tile floor. “You better,” he says with a smirk, thensteps in and lowers himself slowly into the water, groaning at the heat.
I follow him, settling in with my legs framing his, chest against his back. He leans into me, his body relaxing as the warmth seeps into both of us. For a few quiet moments, we just breathe, the soft rising and falling of our chests syncing up as my arms come around his waist, and he rests his hands over mine.
“Nash?” he says softly.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Thank you. For everything.” He pauses for a moment, and I give him space. “I’ve always dreamed of sex like this, and I never thought I’d get it. I guess I thought I’d waited too long. Or that maybe I was too old or too far behind or just… I don’t know, it’s dumb, but?—”
“No, don’t say that. It’s not dumb. Not at all. If it feels good and we both like it and want it, that’s all that matters.”
He nods slowly, fingers trailing down my thigh, lingering there like he’s still deciding whether to say more.
“I didn’t mean to cut you off,” I murmur. “What is it? I want to know.”
“I haven’t told you why I got divorced, have I?” he asks, and I pause because we haven’t talked about this, or his ex at all, really. And I’m dying to know.
“No, you haven’t.”
“It’s not something I like to bring up,” he says, voice quieter now. “And I’ve never really been honest with anyone about why we got divorced. Even though I know it’s for the best, and I don’t miss her at all.”
