The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs(19)
When she heard the groaning scream she wasn't even sure it was her. Bryony Mulligan melted into the silk of that bedcover and he drank her up like a cocktail.
* * * *
His broad crest, clad in the sleek condom, pushed at her anus.
"Yes," she cried out. "Fuck me!"
"Glad to oblige." He was also glad he had no neighbors to hear all this or there might have been cops banging at his door by now. He could never have guessed Bryony Mulligan was a screamer.
But boy did he like it.
And she evidently enjoyed the little slaps with which he'd reddened her ass cheeks. She pushed back, pumping her hips at him, urging for more. She was a beautiful, wild cat.
He was no longer so sure he wanted to master her. Some women should be left untamed, he mused. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud. Ben Petruska had a reputation to withhold.
He began filling her sweet ass, half inch by half inch, pausing at times to let her adjust. Her gasps grew throatier and he watched her hands gripping the bedcover tighter as he plowed deeper. Ben tried to steady his breathing, but the excitement was too much. Leaning over her sweating back, he wrapped one arm around her waist and gave that last little push. Filling her. Possessing her. For a moment he waited, the blissful sensation of her ass hugging his cock making him burn with the desire to ram home hard, but natural good sense making it necessary to slow down, be considerate.
He ran his free hand over her left ass cheek, cupped it, squeezed it, felt the throbbing squeeze intensify on his rock hard shaft.
"Go balls deep in me," she gasped out. "I want all of it."
Fuck.
That was it.
He pulled back an inch, resettled his knees on the bed and then thrust.
She screamed out a, "Yes", although it sounded as if she had a mouthful of silk.
Ben let himself go, riding her glorious ass until the friction flared into a white hot spark and then he spent, firing his load with a last push that slapped his balls hard against her sticky cunt. She squealed and groaned breathlessly and he felt it vibrate through his dick. Just as he thought he was done, she moved under him, pushing back, hips swaying, her wet pussy rubbing on his sac as she came to her own peak. The soft trickle of her warm liquid honey, smeared on his balls, sent him to heaven again and he shook as yet another spurt of cum shot out of him and into the condom.
* * * *
Bryony woke abruptly. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after the exhausting few hours in his company her body had won out over her brain and insisted on much needed rest.
She sat up as carefully as possible so as not to disturb the man sprawled beside her on his stomach. They had not made it under the covers, but they were both naked. He snored softly, his face partially mashed into the pillow, dark eyelashes twitching. Ben Petruska still managed to look incredibly sexy, she thought almost angrily.
After this she'd hoped to find him looking....normal. Looking like any other man, once the mystery was stripped away. Unfortunately it wasn't the case. If she sat there any longer gazing at his hard butt and muscular shoulders she'd probably feel the need to wake him and continue where they left off. Or say goodbye in some squishy way that would later make her cringe. Best slip out quietly. No awkward conversation that way. Really she needed a shower, but that would wake him for sure, so she dressed quickly, picked up her shoes and purse and tiptoed out into the main room of his apartment. It was getting light out already. The city outside his windows looked icy and miserable, sinking in grey dismal surrender to the bitterness of another winter. Grabbing her phone from the window ledge where she left it last night, she checked the time. Eight thirty. Shit. She'd be late for work.
Couldn't go in dressed like this could she?
There were two missed calls. One from Helena late last night and one from her friend Kelly this morning. No time to check them now. About to pull on her shoes, she suddenly froze when the phone on the kitchen counter rang out, piercing the still quiet.
She glanced over at his bedroom but there was no movement from within. He was out for the count, she mused with a jolt of pride. Always knew she could show him a thing or two.
The phone clicked to voice mail after only three short rings.
"Benny, darling, I thought I'd catch you early. Your cell phone is off. Where are you? Look, I'm flying back today. We can do dinner. Call me, ok? I think I left something in your guest bathroom. My hot iron. I'll collect it later. Ciao baby."
Benny? She scowled at the phone. Benny? What was he? Twelve?
No. He was an enormous, fully-grown, extremely arrogant man. He was rough as sandpaper and yet soft as a cashmere sweater. He could be hot one minute, spicy as a good madras curry, and then cold in the next, enough to give ice burns.