Phoenix Burning(22)

Alex had met a handful of women who couldn’t come until they’d experienced penetration. He began to wonder if she fell into this category. Taking a deep breath, he got to his knees. Fumbling in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he found the condom he always carried inside his wallet. He ripped the package open and pulled it out. She watched while he smoothed it down his shaft.

“I’ve always wanted to see a guy do that.” Her wry tone made him laugh. “It usually happens so fast I miss it.”

“It’s a waste of time, but a necessary one.”

“And now?”

He positioned her knees carefully, placing the head of his penis at her slick entrance and telling himself to go slow. “Definitely not a waste of time.”

She giggled until he began to press into her tight pussy. “Oh!”

He stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

“God, no! It feels amazing!”

Relief made him giddy. Pushing forward, he felt her body welcome him deeper. Her muscles flexed, embracing him with each gentle press until his shaft was fully seated and his head was pressed against the sweet spot deep inside her body. She trembled around him, her muscles poised on the brink of orgasm.

Moving in gentle rhythm, Alex began thrusting in and out of her wet heat. He held her hips in his hands to maintain a steady pace. Her breasts bounced gently with each new stroke, nipples pouting for attention. Alex dipped his head and lipped them each in turn until she was gasping and he was fighting the urge to cum.

Still she managed to stave off her climax. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her delicate features. Her brow was knitted in fierce concentration, her teeth clamped on her upper lip. She looked as if she were in agony.

Slowing his momentum, Alex reached up and brushed his fingers across the puckered skin between her eyebrows. “What’s wrong, love?”

She opened her eyes, her desperation on display. “Nothing. I want you to come inside me, Alex.”

Her body seemed to believe her words. God knew his body believed her. But something didn’t fit. He could feel her orgasm building, winding its way through her muscles. The tension had her strung so tight he could barely move inside her. But instead of the fluidity that told him his lover was ready to fly over the edge of bliss, she was in rigid lockdown.

She began to rock beneath him, grinding his cock inside her pussy until he thought he might implode from the need to let go. Forcing his libido back under control, Alex listened to her breathing. Measured, calculated, she was gasping and moaning in the perfect imitation of orgasm. Damned if she wasn’t faking it.

If I didn’t believe it was for my benefit, I’d be insulted.

“Come, Alex. Come inside me!”

“No.”

She stilled and her eyes flew open, surprise apparent in her expression. “Why not?”

He hissed as he pulled out of her pussy. “Not until you tell me why you’re trying to fake an orgasm.”

She looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I wasn’t faking.”

“I know the difference, love.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “A lot of men don’t. But I do.”

“Oh.”

Now Alex was the one in agony. He flopped to the bed beside Emory and closed his eyes. His balls were tightly clenched, his seed fighting for release. Several deep breaths had him hanging on by a thread. She snuggled up beside him and rested her head against his chest. The feel of her warmth tamed his arousal, and he wrapped his arm around her slight frame.

“Are you angry?”

“No.” He rolled away from her.

He left the bed and headed for a smaller door in the corner of the room he correctly guessed led to a bathroom. Safely out of sight, he disposed of the condom and washed his hands. His dick was still hard, bouncing against his belly as if it were trying to pummel some sense into him. He stared into the mirror above the sink.

I am so far out of my depth here. Maybe walking away would be better for both of us.

A ready excuse on the tip of his tongue, he stepped back into the bedroom. He hadn’t noticed any details before. The tiny space had been carefully decorated to reflect its owner. Hand-sketched images of lilies and roses hung on walls painted shades of lavender and yellow. Leafy green plants spilled from hanging baskets near the two tiny windows. It was innocence and hope, just like the pixie who called it home.

A pixie currently huddled in the middle of the bed, rocking back and forth with her face buried in her knees. Any desire to extricate himself from the situation died at the sight. She was obviously hurting.

He sat on the bed, wondering what he could possibly say to make it better. “Are you all right?”