Page 7 of Do-Over with my Ex

I was on the verge of a second orgasm when Lorenzo pulled out.

“Not like this,bella mia,” he said. He pulled his shirt off, and I stared at his perfectly chiseled upper body—thick shoulders, arms that would make any woman drool, and abs upon abs. He didn’t have a sixpack, he had eight.

Eight perfectly sculpted bundles of muscle came together in a V that pointed directly at his large cock.

He was every woman’s wet dream.

Lorenzo took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

I wasn’t going to let him stay in charge—it wasn’t how I played the game. I pulled his pants down, and he stepped out of them, kicking off the shoes he still wore.

When he only wore his socks, I pushed him backward onto the bed, and I crawled over him. I kissed his chest, planting kisses all over his perfect body, licking and tasting his skin.

It was just as I remember—his bronze skin always tasted like sun and sex and something distinctly Lorenzo.

When I kissed him on the mouth, Lorenzo’s hands went to my breasts. He tweaked my hard nipples, pinching them lightly, and I moaned. With a hand between my legs, I guided his cock to my entrance.

Lorenzo groaned in unison with my moaning when I sat down on him, and I wrapped my hand around his wrists. I pushed his arms up and pinned them down on the bed, stretching Lorenzo out. It stretched me out on top of him, and I moved my hips back and forth, riding him. My breasts pushed up against his chest, and I gasped as he filled me up. I rode him harder and faster, and our bodies came together as one, fitting perfectly as if we’d always been made to do this.

Lorenzo kept his hands above his head. He could have easily taken over and pushed me aside if he wanted to—I was in control, but unless I tied him down, I wasn’t strong enough to hold him. Lorenzo played along, knowing where I wanted him, and I writhed on top of him, my body against his.

Our skins grew slick with sweat, and when we kissed, our hot breaths mingled. My clit rubbed against Lorenzo’s pubic bone, and it brought back the pending orgasm he’d built when he’d fucked me from behind.

In no time at all, another powerful orgasm ripped through me, and I cried out and collapsed on top of Lorenzo’s chest.

He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around me and roll me over so that he was on top again. He pinned me down, his turn to be dominant, and he pushed into me. He hadn’t even pulled out on the roll—he’d always been coordinated that way, doing things in bed no one else had been able to match.

The orgasm crashed into me as hard and fast as Lorenzo’s cock did, and I cried out and whimpered as his onslaught only dragged out and intensified the pleasure that roared inside me like a raging furnace.

He pumped into me like a power piston, his body a machine, and a moment later, he pushed into me as far as he could go and bit out a sharp cry.

His cock throbbed and pulsed as he released inside me, giving me exactly what I’d ached for all night.

We rode out our orgasms together, melded against each other in a fit of pure passion.

Everything fell away—the world, all the reasons this was a bad idea, the past, the future. All that existed was the two of us caught in a moment where we were connected to each other, and we gave each other exactly what we needed.

When the orgasms finally subsided, I gasped and panted.

Lorenzo dropped a kiss on my mouth before he pulled out and fell onto the mattress next to me.

“Santo cazzo,” Lorenzo said.

“What?”

“Holy fuck,” he said with a grin.

I laughed. “Right.” I sat up. “I’ll be right back.”

I got up and hurried to the bathroom to clean up after our rough, bareback sex.

When I returned to the hotel room, Lorenzo sat up and already wore the boxers I’d pulled off along with his pants.

“You’re getting dressed.” Something inside me closed off, like a switch being tripped.

“I’m just getting decent.”

This was Lorenzo, the man we’d both agreed would just be a fling. This was Lorenzo, the blast from the past who was a one-night stand, nothing more.

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