Bedwrecker(64)

Perhaps, in hindsight, I should have seen control would be an issue for us. But then again, it is my turn to take control. “Unzip your pants.”

He gives me a sly grin that makes him look more like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “I think you should do that.”

I shake my head.

“Are you sure this is the way you want to play it?”

I swallow. I’m not sure if it is, but decide why not. “Yes,” I reply sternly. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. This is fun. A lot of fun.

He unzips his jeans and his long, thick cock juts out.

Holy hell, he isn’t wearing underwear.

I lick my lips at the sight.

He looks down, his gaze darkening, and then he begins stroking himself.

Wait! That’s my job!

My internal muscles clench as I watch, mesmerized by the picture before me.

I approach, ready to pounce.

“Don’t touch,” he warns.

“What?”

“No touching.” His head tips back as his stroking becomes more aggressive.

I make a noise that might have been a growl when he starts thrusting his cock into his fist. My pulse quickens and my clit pulses in perfect harmony.

Keen flicks his glance toward me. “This feels good . . . but you’d feel so much better.”

Damn him.

I can’t hold out any longer. I sit beside him on my bright yellow comforter in my bright yellow room that has never had a man inside it and start touching myself. Of all the boyfriends I’ve had, all the lovers I’ve taken, the many men I’ve fucked, I’ve never brought one back to this house.

Never.

So intent on watching me, Keen’s own stroking has stopped.

“That’s it,” he says, and then within seconds takes my hand and puts my fingers in his mouth. “I’ve been dying to taste you again since you left me alone in that hotel room.”

“Oh, God,” I moan. Loud. Remembering that night. So loud, in fact, I might have screamed it.

Before I know it, he’s tearing open a condom, rolling it on, and tugging me onto his lap.

Bracing myself, I put my hands on his shoulders to straddle his legs with mine.

He looks down at our bodies and then lifts his head up. Gone is any amusement on his face. All that is left is pure lust. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night,” he whispers. “I wanted to fuck you on Jordan’s desk last night, not in the hall, so that I could see you, look at you, watch you come, but I knew we shouldn’t.”

I lean in and kiss him. “No, he wouldn’t have liked that. He has everything organized on his desk.”

“I know. I saw that.” Keen nips at my lip.

Without another word, I position myself over the broad, blunt head of his cock and ease my way down.

He throws his head back and grabs my hips.

Ripples of desire consume me as I rise up and slam myself down.

“Fuck,” he groans.

I grip his shoulders tight enough for my blunt nails to scratch him and move up and down over and over again, feeling like there is a chance I might never get enough of him.

“Fuucckk,” he groans again, this time drawing out the word. Soon his hands are moving me as fast as my hips are already moving.

I lean in to kiss him and his mouth devours mine. His tongue strokes mine, and his lips crash against mine with a hunger that would have made me weak at the knees if I were standing.

I am climbing higher and higher and his groans are becoming more intense, even fiercer, with every passing second. One of Keen’s hands drifts down and his thumb is directly over my clit. With pressure he circles me, and my hips jerks as my thigh muscles tighten in preparation for my impending climax.

“Oh God, I’m going to come,” I cry out.

His hand lifts and takes my chin to look at him. “I’m right there with you,” he groans through clenched teeth.

I take his thumb in my mouth, sucking on it, and then we both explode as shattering climaxes run rapid through our veins.

When I can breathe again, I look down at him. “You let me take control.”

He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Did I?”

Okay, so maybe not, but I’ll call it a win. “Yes, you did.”

Being naughty, he nips at my lip. “I’m going to be honest: I don’t like giving up control.”

I nip back at his. “I don’t like giving up control either.”

He laughs.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chokes out, trying to contain his laughter.

I lean down and suck on his neck, probably harder than I should, and then purr, “I am woman, here me roar.”

Laughing now, he stands up with me in his arms and turns around, setting me on my bed.

I look up at him, admiring how gorgeous he is, and wishing it were early morning so I could see him again. Really see him again. This time study every line, ripple, and dimple.