Page 84 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
My knees shake and tremble, and I’m forced to hold on to his shoulders for balance, for support, lest my legs give way and I fall. There’s no teasing, no playing—only his pursuit of my pleasure. He follows the clues of my gasps, the way I arch my back when he uses his tongue this way, flicks his fingers inside me that way, or when he speeds up or slows down. He builds me up and drives me to the edge and in the seconds before I lose all control, he looks up at me, pausing ever so briefly. Smiles, and then resumes.
I explode, crying out and nearly ripping out his hair, writhing against his mouth.
My legs do give out, then, and I collapse.
Into his waiting arms.
He lifts me, carries me to my bed, lays me down with chivalrous gentility. As if I weigh nothing. I’m still trembling and whimpering when he crawls up from the foot of the bed, spreading my thighs wide with his broad shoulders—I drape my knees over his shoulders and bite my lip as he stares up at me. There’s no need for words, then, just the need in his eyes and the erotic glisten of my essence on his beard and lips, nothing but the ravenous way he laps at me, French-kissing my core with all the dizzying fury he kisses my mouth, all lips and tongue, delving and demanding. I writhe and gasp, and ride his mouth, grinding against him and reaching back to clutch my pillow, and scrabble at my headboard. My spine arches off the bed and I can’t help but scream through a second climax.
He shows no sign of pausing, but I can’t take any more. He’s nuzzling my thighs and licking greedily at my pussy when I tug at his beard, haul him by his hair and his shoulders up to me. I wipe at his face with my hands, and then bring his mouth to mine.
“You taste like me,” I whisper, grinning.
He braces his weight with one fist and caresses my breasts with the other. “I love the taste of you. I love the sounds you make, and the way you try not to scream.”
He begins to slide back down, but I catch at him. “No, James. No more.”
He smirks. “I want more.”
I reach down between us and fumble at his dress pants. “And believe me, you can have all you want, whenever you want. But right now, I need this.” I manage to rip open the button and zipper, dipping my hand under his underwear, grasping his erection.
He growls. “I feel like I owe you a couple more. The scales aren’t even.”
I stroke his length. “Who’s keeping track?”
“I am.”
“Well, I’m not.” I caress him, twisting my fist around the plump round head, and then plunging down to the root. “I just want you. I don’t care if I come once or a hundred times—I just want you inside me. I need you, James. That’s all I care about.”
He huffs, growls, bowing his spine upward and flexing his hips to push into my hands, and then yanking away. He flops onto his back and fights to get his pants off, but he’s impatient and clumsy, and he still has his shoes and socks on.
I laugh, and roll to lean over him. I take his big beautiful cock in one hand and untie his shoes with the other, slide them off, tug his socks off, and then his pants and his underwear—and then, finally, we’re naked together, and he’s groaning at my touch.
He grabs at my wrist. “Stop, Nova—you have to stop for a second.”
I laugh. “Getting close, are you?”
He huffs. “Fucking right I am. The way you touch me, it feels so fuckin’ good I won’t last another goddamn second if you don’t give me a chance to get control.”
“I don’t want control, James,” I snap impatiently. “I want the opposite.”
He laughs. “I just mean I’m not about to let go before I get a chance to be inside you, so you gotta back off a second. I’m out of practice and don’t last as long as I used to.”
“Oh.” I frown at him. “I couldn’t care less how long you last. I just need you inside me, now.”
He moves to his knees. “Condoms?”
I point at the middle drawer of my bedside table. “In there.”
He takes out the box, opens it, and rips open a square. Levered up on one elbow, I watch as he rolls it on. His eyes lock on mine, and my breath catches.
It’s a wild, fraught moment—I was caught up in the sexuality of it all, momentarily distracted by chemical need, by physiological desire. In that moment, I remember what this is all about—us.
He rolls into me, and his arm curls under my neck—I let him take me to my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my hands in the hair at his nape and pull him closer. He kisses me—leaves me delirious as only he can, and we kiss and there’s no stopping, nothing between us, nothing holding us back.
