“Tonight, you can have both.” I palmed his erection and spoke against his lips. “I want you naked.”
I turned and left him with that, feeling kinda brazen and sexy. I got what I was after from my room, and sure enough, when I went back out, he was stepping out of his jeans. He threw them on the other sofa, pulled the throw blanket down and sat on it. He was hard, his cock was pointing upward, thick and so fucking hot.
Warmth spread through my belly and my balls, desire and lust burned through my veins. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it, then smiled at me in a way that made my knees weak.
“You’re still wearing the robe.”
I was barely wearing the robe. It hardly clung to my shoulders; the front was wide open. “I am.”
I threw the condom beside him but took the lube and knelt on the floor between his legs. Sure, I could suck and lick his cock, but it also allowed me to slick my own arse. I poured lube onto my fingers, moving my hand behind me, and once he realised what I was doing, he growled.
“Fuck.”
I leaned up and licked him from base to tip and he hissed when I tongued his slit. He moaned when I sucked on the head, pumping him with my free hand. My other hand was working my arse, slicking and stretching. Until he tapped me on the shoulder.
“You’re a little too good at that.”
I smiled as I pulled off. “Then put the condom on.”
He did and I applied more lube. Like a lot more lube—to both him and myself. Then I climbed up, straddling him. His hands went to my hips, raking up my sides, sliding over the cool silk of my robe.
I tilted his head back roughly and crushed my lips to his, sweeping his mouth with my tongue and sucking on his. His cock slid along my arse crack, huge and hot, and I was aching with the need to feel it inside me.
So, breaking the kiss, I positioned him where I wanted him the most and slowly, so fucking slowly, let him in.
Fuck.
He sucked back a breath and his fingers dug into my hips, maybe to stop himself from pushing me onto him. “Oh god,” he hissed. “You’re so tight.”
I took a handful of his hair and yanked his head back, partly a distraction for him and partly so I could kiss him again.
And I rocked a little as I took him, finally letting out a shameless groan when he was all the way in. After a few seconds, he tried to raise his hips, so I yanked on his hair again, harder this time.
“I am in control here,” I murmured.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”
I relaxed my hold on his hair and kissed him gently, tenderly. “Relax and let me do this for you.”
And he did.
His whole body let go of the tension. He relaxed onto the couch and I began to move, back and forth, up and down.
And he let me lead. I set the pace, I took control, and he sat there and enjoyed the show.
Christ, he felt good.
He touched places inside me no man ever had. Heat and electricity sparked in my blood and my bones, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. And as I went faster and harder, needing more of that thrill, that high, he finally fisted my cock and brought me undone.
Pleasure ripped through me like a bomb. He didn’t let me ride it out. Oh no. He gripped my hips and drove up into me, his whole body rigid as he came, pulsing inside me. His neck was corded, his jaw clenched, and his eyes rolled back as he let out a strangled cry.
I’d never seen anything so hot.
We both collapsed, panting. I was dizzy and spent, and I barely had the energy to lift myself off him.
As soon as I did, he pulled me back, scooped me up, and we lay on the couch in a mess of limbs, lube, and ragged breaths. He laughed, and when I pulled back, he showed me his hand. It was shaking. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, his voice deep and rumbly. “I’m gonna need an intermission before round two.”
I chuckled, damned proud of myself. “Same. I’d suggest a shower, but I don’t know if my legs’ll work yet.”
So we stayed there, lying together on the couch. He was so warm, and I reckon if I’d have closed my eyes for a second too long, I’d have fallen asleep. His heartbeat was lulling me . . .
But then his stomach rumbled. He put his hand to his belly, embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I skipped dinner. I was busy with . . . a work thing, then realised the time and came straight over.”
“Then you need to eat,” I said, sitting up. “How about a shower, then some food, then round two.”
“You don’t need to feed me,” he said, his cheeks flushed.
“It’s just food,” I replied gently. “You’re allowed to eat.”
He made a face. “But then it’s not just sex, is it? It’s sex and food.”
Was that weird? Why did I think that was a weird thing to say? We had agreed that it was just sex, but I wasn’t going to starve the man. “Food and sex are two of my favourite things,” I said, trying to make light of it. “And if you don’t keep up your energy, then you can’t fuck me for hours later. You need sustenance.”
He laughed at that. “Right, then.”
“I called you SAF before. For ‘sexy as fuck’ but there’s no reason it can’t be for ‘sex and food.’ Either works for me.” I stood up, feeling the muscles in my thighs and my arse were a bit sore. “And it’s not like we’re going out for dinner on a date or anything.”
He stood up too. “You winced. Are you hurt?”
I smiled at his attentiveness. “My legs are telling me I should do more squats. Nothing a hot shower won’t fix.” I looked at my come smeared on his belly, then down at his dick . . . his softening dick with the condom still on. “Christ, that’s hot. How can I want more after what we just did?” He pulled the condom off and his huge cock hung, glistening and heavy. “Aaaand you just got even hotter.”
He laughed. “Bin?”
“Under the sink,” I waved toward the kitchen as I walked to the hall. “I’ll start the shower. And I’ll need help washing my back, so don’t keep me waiting.”
I heard him chuckle as I got to my bedroom, and I threw my robe onto my bed and headed straight for the walk-in shower. By the time I’d turned the water on, he was right behind me. Hot water, soapy hands, and tender kisses, and all my aches and pains were washed away.
But then his stomach growled again, so I left him in the shower to go and find the man some food. I had no idea what he liked, if he had any allergies, or whatever, so I grabbed a few plates and raided the fridge.
He came out wearing nothing but a towel, tied off low around his waist. His dark, wet hair was sticking up in all directions; his grin was lopsided and stupidly cute. He knew damn well how fucking cute he was, and he knew I liked what I saw. I’d seen him naked before, plenty of times. I’d seen him fully clothed, half-dressed. I’d seen his orgasm face, his ecstasy face, his laughing face. And he was sexy as fuck.
But in a towel, half-wet, with a smile that made my heart take notice . . .
“Whatcha got there?” he asked.
Apparently I was just staring at him like a simpleton. He asked a question . . . I looked down at the plates. “Well, I wasn’t sure what you liked, or could or couldn’t eat. So I kept it all separate in case you’re allergic to something.”