Jesus. How did she do that, open herself up to me like that? Without even realizing. But I knew. And I knew then that I had to be careful with her. She was feisty and passionate, but also gentle, sweet, and breakable.
I moved my hands to her magnificent tits. They were just fucking perfect. Natural, firm, not too big, and it felt like they were made for me. I felt harder than ever. I looked across to the bedside table. She followed my eyes and reached over for a condom, which she handed to me. After fumbling around like a 15-year-old, I placed my hands back on her hips and pulled her onto me. I loved having her above me like that, pushing down at her own pace. Her eyes left mine and to watch me move in and out of her. I tilted her chin so she looked at me again.
“You like to watch that?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Tell me,” I said.
She hesitated. For a moment I thought I’d pushed her too far.
“I like to see your dick fucking me.”
“Jesus,” I groaned. My cock was throbbing and I was aware of every inch of her clamped around me. My hands dug into her hips as I tried to get deeper, quicker. She responded and moved with me to speed up her rhythm and pressed her nails into my shoulders as her head fell back. God, she was so sexy. I was going to make her come again. I wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of fucking her or watching her getting fucked, but I wasn’t going to last long. Not breaking our perfect movements, I reached down and my thumb found her clitoris. Instinctively, she backed away and I tried to hold her in place.
“No,” she gasped.
“Yes, baby. Let me make you come.”
“I can’t, not again.”
“You can and you will.” And I flipped her to her back and drove into her.
“Ethan. Please. Harder.”
That was it. I was done for. I pushed my thumb back to her clitoris and roughly rounded the bag of nerves as I kept up my rhythm. Her hips tilted up to meet my hand and my dick, driving me harder into her, just as she wanted. I felt my orgasm begin to rumble at the base of my spine. I kept my eyes open, wanting to see it on her face as well. Just a split second later, there it was, her eyes shut lazily, I felt her breathing stop, and I relaxed and allowed my climax to take me over.
I collapsed on top of her, totally spent and totally needing more from her.
I could fuck her forever. What?
I pulled out and went into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. I needed to clear my head. Shake it off. I splashed some water on my face and looked in the mirror.
I don’t do complicated, I reminded myself.
When I opened the door to the bedroom, she was sat on the edge of the bed and was pulling her shirt on.
“Are you leaving?” I asked. How long had I been in the bathroom?
“I was cold, but yeah, maybe I should go.” I was a dick. She wasn’t leaving, and now it looked as if I was thinking she should. She hadn’t said it as a question, but her eyes were asking. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure what my answer would be.
She looked away and stood up, her eyes going to the floor, looking for her things. I walked up to her and drew her to my chest. Her hands hung limply by her side. She was upset—upset with me—and I hated myself for it.
“Stay,” I said into her neck.
“I should go.”
“I want to wake up with you tomorrow.” No bullshit. It was what I wanted.
“Just a week,” she said. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself as she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders.
I didn’t push her to explain. “Let’s get you into bed if you’re cold.” I walked her backward into the bed and guided her under the covers. “You need body heat to warm you, beautiful,” I said as I pulled her back to my front and fit her perfectly into my body. “Sleep.”
Chapter Seven
Anna
There was a distinct giddiness about my mood as I let myself back into Daniel’s flat the following morning. I had woken up to Ethan trailing kisses along my body. He told me he was hungry and that he wanted to taste my honey. Who was I to argue? I loved the way he was so keen to make me come.
There was something about him that was almost addictive. I couldn’t get enough of his body, his touch. If someone said that I could trade any hope of a normal existence and spend the rest of my life in that bed with him, I think I’d sign on the dotted line. Even now, twenty minutes since I last saw him, I wanted him again. And who was he? He was a stranger to me, and I to him. But I think part of him knew me better than anyone else. The way he looked at me, through me, and right into the center of me. Somehow, that ability to see me in a way others didn’t meant he could do things with my body that no one could. No one had.