Combine loneliness, stress, a lot of whisky, and the gloom of a looming date with The Barracuda, and it was not a good mix. So when he was faced with this rather shy woman with the rubenesque figure and air of mystery, he briefly wondered where his friend had found such a surprise for him and threw caution to the wind. For this one night, he was going to enjoy himself. A man who genuinely enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, both in and out of bed, he’d been without female company for a few months and this temptation in front of him was most welcome.
She was a delight, a mixture of seduction and shyness. Molly Jones, if that was her real name, was an enigma to be savoured, and savour her he would. If he’d had his pants on, his shaft would have been burning a hole through it.
Within seconds he had her creaming for him, her tight little vagina clamping down on his fingers as she closed her eyes and arched under his expert touch. Those bountiful breasts ached to be kissed, and he played his tongue over the pink nipples, her every moan a balm to his ego, heightening his own desire.
Every undulation of her full figure beneath his hands had his shaft hardening even more, his blood pooling achingly in the hard length until it was almost painful. Rolling on the condom with unusual speed just added to the whole carnal atmosphere. When he swung over her and settled himself between her soft thighs, it felt like heaven.
She opened her eyes and he caught the glimpse of blue in them. The partially opened bathroom door shed only enough light to make out dim features, and it was titillating. Mysterious. It added eroticism to the mystery of Molly Jones.
“Tell me your real name.” He kissed along her jaw line.
“Not…in the rules,” she panted.
“There are no rules.”
“There is when it comes to names.”
“Woman of mystery.” He rasped his tongue along the pulse in her throat, feeling her arch beneath him, her rounded belly pressing his erection between them with a delicious pain that had him groaning.
Tunnelling his fingers in the thick wealth of hair that pooled on the pillow beneath her head, he held her still while he kissed her, taking her mouth almost brutally as he tasted her once more. Delicious. He licked across her lips, evading her mouth when she arched for another kiss, teasing them both by rocking his hips against her softness.
He felt her shudder and lifted his head. “Oh no, love, you don’t get off without me.”
“I think I’m going to die,” she moaned, her small foot running up the back of his leg. “Please.”
How could a decent bloke ignore a plea like that? Shifting his hips, he felt his erection slide through those curls, the sensation of them brushing the engorged head of his shaft making his throat arch back. When that engorged head slid between those moist lips sheltering her secrets to finally lodge at the entrance to her body, he thought he might very well die with her. Gritting his teeth, he held still for several seconds.
She didn’t help when she writhed beneath him, her knees bending, her soft thighs rubbing against his hips. “Please. Please.” She whispered something else that sounded like ‘Damien’ or ‘David’ but in his slightly inebriated state could well have been ‘damn’. He wasn’t sure and he really didn’t care, because the fire roaring through his veins was making his heart thunder and his shaft throb.
Everything he wanted right then was beneath him – a soft, willing woman – and everything his shaft wanted was right before it – the entrance to her body that sheltered cavern that would clasp him so achingly, sweetly, torturously, tight.
One thrust and he breached her entrance, the engorged head forging inside followed by the thick shaft that propelled it forward.
She was so damned tight, so hot, and so moist with need that he pushed through the clasping walls of her sheath easier than he otherwise would have, forging onward and breaking through something so fragile he almost didn’t notice it.
Beneath him, Molly stiffened slightly, and thinking it was his size causing discomfort, he shifted the angle, soothing her with hot kisses, swallowing her soft cry and then her moans as he worked inside her, thrusting easily, slowing his movements, enjoying the sensation of her satiny tightness clasping his shaft so firmly.
She relaxed slightly, her ardour burning again as he stroked it higher with each slow, measured thrust of his shaft inside her, his hips surging almost lazily but powerfully. He felt like he could do this forever, that he’d explode in a second, that he didn’t want it to end but if it didn’t soon, he’d surely die. It was a mixture of emotions ands sensations that seared through him as surely as his blood was searing through his veins.