Page 37 of Last Love

Presley

Discussion Topic 5: …But Don’t Repeat It, Either.

Wow.

Did last night really happen?

Did I really just fall into bed with my ex-boyfriend or was it all some sexy – very sexy – twisted hallucination I let myself masturbate too hard to which is why I’m so sore?

“Hey you,” a voice that I could pinpoint in the middle of a death metal concert coos near my ear.

My eyes spring open to a blurry sight that re-instills the previous disbelief.

Okay.

So last night wasn’t a dream.

We really did have sex – the best sex I’ve ever had for the record.

And cuddle.

And share a pepperoni and black olive pizza in uncomfortable silence until I brought up the time in high school when he joined an all you can eat challenge for charity and lost to one of the new freshman linebackers.

Laughing at the memory broke the tension, caused us to accidentally break the box, and eventually guided us back into the sheets where we went another two rounds before passing out.

Was sleeping with him the most responsible thing I’ve done?

Far from it.

Do I regret it?

Absolutely. Fucking. Not.

My glasses are gingerly and unexpectedly glided onto my face.  The action alone is enough to get me swooning yet seeing his messy hair, bright blue eyes, and even brighter grin intensifies the happy sigh. “Hi you.”

A bashful beam is flashed prior to him pushing a few strands of hair behind my ear. “Sleep okay?”

Such an innocent question but one no one has asked me in years.

Being touched by the sentiment makes it impossible to do more than nod at first. “You?”

“Best I’ve had in an over a decade.” His words take on a double-entendre as he lets his gaze drink in my naked frame that’s barely being covered by a sheet.

I playfully push at his shoulder, giggling the instant he starts snickering.

“I hate that I have to say this shit but…,” Ry’s hesitation prompts me to tense, “I gotta be at work in like forty-five minutes.”

Relief that it wasn’t something else like him having a girlfriend or a fucking wife – shit we should definitely touch on – instantly settles in my expression.

“Mind if I use your shower?”

An idea to be spontaneous once more hits me. “Mind if I share it?”

Ry’s lips briefly make a round shape on a hungry whimper.

“Is that a yes?” My finger lightly roams down the front of his chest. “Or a no?”

“That’s a I’m probably gonna be fucking late to work…” He leans forward and tangles a hand into my thick locks. “And it’s gonna be so fucking worth it.”

Our mouths fuse in the same fashion they did for most of the night. As though afraid the other might vanish from existence if we separate, we fumble together in kiss filled hold from the middle of my king-sized bed into my en-suite bathroom.

Getting into the shower and the water flowing is easy.

Convincing our hands to do cleaning instead of caressing isn’t.

And keeping Ry pinned against the dark tile wall while one soapy hand strokes his cock is by the far the most difficult.

“Stay there,” I command, curled grip tightening.

“But-”

“Just enjoy this…” My encouragement is followed by a licentious smirk. “Me.”

He groans, tucks his bottom lip behind his top teeth, and rocks his hips into the gradual jerking, eyes watching the way the warm water cascades down my tits.  Feeling his cock swell while staring simply spurs me to move my hand faster. Show him how much I appreciate being adored.

Admired.

Wanted.

My pumping stays steady, working his shaft from his tip that keeps leaking pre-cum all the way down to his balls that are lifted up in anticipation of my slick grasp. Rolling them around is done in tandem with my other fingers scraping his chest. I lightly scrape at the skin at the same time I lightly tug at his sac and the sensuously savage combination has his entire body damn near buckling to its knees.

“Fuck, Pres,” is breathlessly barked in such a way I can’t resist the urge to move my hand faster.

Squeeze a little tighter and more ferociously.

Stroke like it’s my turn to stake claim and scrub away all other females who dared try to take my place.

Suddenly dazed with a bit of delirium, I lift my hand up and latch it onto the back of his neck, tugging him over and over and over again into my caresses, holding his hooded stare hostage with mine.

His large frame folds forward.

Shakes.

---