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“Isaiah?” My fingernails dig into his pecs. “Will you help me finish?”
His swollen cock pulses beneath me, his eyes closing, as if he needs to try to control himself.
“When have I ever been able to say no to you?”
It’s the same question he asked the morning after we said some drunken vows. This time with a little less bite and a whole lot more struggle through hard-earned breaths.
His hands find my waist before curling around my back, smoothly running up and down the length of my spine. “I...” He shakes his head. “I cannot believe you’re here. I feel so fucking lucky.” He palms my breasts, thumbs tracing circles over my peaked nipples, under the lace of my bralette. “And these... these are fucking perfect.”
My boobs? No, they’re not. Far from perfect, in fact. Fairly small and uneven, but goddamn do they look perfect in his hands.
Isaiah sits up with me in his lap, bringing his mouth to mine for a quick kiss. Then he whispers in my ear while his hands slide around to my ass, pushing and pulling, guiding me to rock over him.
“I have never ever been more turned on than I am by you, Kennedy Kay. By this little matching set you wore for me. By your fucking hair bouncing down your back every time you writhe on my cock, and I have never, never been more turned on than I am right now, knowing you’re going to come all over me, and I haven’t even had the pleasure of properly touching you yet.”
He drags his hands down my outer thighs.
He whispers more encouragement as we both look down to watch me move over him. “That’s it. You’re doing so good for me, Kenny. God, that feels fucking amazing.”
Isaiah lays back down, his back to the bed. With his palms bracketing my thighs, I brace my hands on his forearms.
The pressure in my lower belly builds fast and heady, ready to spill over. It’s so close, I’m so close. Which has me thinking, why have I never come so easily with someone before? What did I do wrong that I’m doing right this time? Why is it as simple as dry humping this frustratingly charming man?
Why am I in my head right now and why is my impending orgasm leaving me because of it?
A desperate whimper escapes me when the pressure begins to dissolve. I fight to keep it, but my muscles refuse, uncoiling themselves, my breathing evening out as the momentum fades.
“No,” Isaiah refuses. “Give me one. I need one from you. I need to see it.”
His thumb swipes over my panties, right over my clit.
He rubs softs circles there and my hips follow the pattern, the pressure slowly building its way back again.
“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth. “Help me.”
Isaiah slips a single index finger into my thong, right where it narrows, his knuckle grazing the skin just above where I need him touching me most. The moment I’m convinced he’s going to push the fabric out of the way, give himself easier access, he hooks his finger, looping the material and giving himself something to hold on to. Something to guide me.
He pulls my panties towards him, subsequently pulling me, the lace taut and causing delicious friction over my clit.
“Oh my God.” My head falls back from the sensation.
It feels fucking euphoric, having him under me, his finger so close in combination with the rough fabric on my overly sensitive skin.
He moves me, rocks me over his sweatpants, pushing and pulling me by his single finger hooked into my thong.
Like a fucking rein.
And I follow his direction willingly.
“You’re doing so good, baby, fucking yourself on me.” He can hardly get the words out through his ragged breaths. “Use me.”
And I do, I roll and writhe and grind over his length until the pressure boils, spilling over, and my entire body contracts in a blinding orgasm. My eyes are desperate to shut, the release almost unbearable, but I can’t close them. I can’t help but watch the man below me as he watches me, looking at me like he can’t believe he’s seeing me come.
He touches me through it, softly running his hands over my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. He’s soothing and patient as I come down, slumping my entire spent body on his chest.
He holds me. He fucking holds me post-orgasm.
I’ve literally never been held once in my life and now, while riding a high, I’ve got this man’s arms around me and holding me as if he couldn’t bear to let me leave.
