Page 17 of Don't Get Me Wrong

Chapter Seven

Nick

Eyes locked on eachother, neither of us dare to breathe. The tension of lust is roaring between us. Muscle pulls taut beneath my skin as I wait for her answer while I’m embedded so deep inside her.

Her inner muscles squeeze me, and we both groan. “No condom. I want to feel you come inside me.”

Gritting my teeth, I grind in deep. “Are you sure?”

“Fuck, yes!”

I lose myself in the sensation of fucking her, grabbing fistfuls of her gorgeous ass, thrusting harder and faster until I'm pounding her with everything I have. Everything I am.

As I feel the orgasm building inside her, getting closer and closer, I look deep into her eyes. Just before she reaches the crest, she moans.

Fuck, she’s so perfect.

I stay the course until she begins to shake uncontrollably under me, her fingernails digging into my skin. That sexy little mouth is open, but no words come out as she grinds her hips and rides the massive wave of pleasure that consumes her.

I hold her tightly against me, my rigid cock buried to the hilt, and feel the wild throbbing of her orgasm travel along the length of my shaft. The sensation is unbelievable. She holds her breath as deep spasms tremor through her muscles again and again. I kiss her softly as each shudder passes through her.

“Oh, God,” she whispers into the dark, coming down, but my own orgasm is rising up inside me, and I slam deeply into her, pumping into her grasping pussy. She holds perfectly still as I empty myself inside her.

For a moment I hold still, resting on my arms so that I don’t crush her with my weight. I love her. I feel like I always have. I lean down to kiss her pink, full lips, and then settle onto the pillow of her breasts.

“We need another shower,” she says, playing with my hair.

“I don’t think I can move.”

I manage to roll off, dragging her onto my chest. It’s probably not realistic to think she got pregnant, and that feels disappointing though it shouldn’t. She’s still in school. We hardly know each other. It’s not the right time. But it feels like the right time. It feels like there’s this beast inside me who wants to breed her and keep her pregnant all the time.

I’m a fucking academic, this is ridiculous.

“How many kids do you want?” I ask into the near darkness.

“I always thought I’d have three.”

Three is a nice number. Four sounds better. “I’ll want to keep trying until we have at least one of each.”

“Nick!”

“What?”

“It’s too soon for that kind of talk.”

I palm the back of her head possessively. “Do you really think so?”

---