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He slaps my ass, slapping the rest of it out of me, the orgasm I didn't even realize I was still holding inside me. "Yes!"
And still, after, I still have more in me. I ride him harder, and his face tenses once again with pleasure. "How do you... Fuck, Kyra. Fucking sexiest... best... I love you. I fucking love you."
And as our eyes bore into each other, as the shock of his words tumbles around my head, as I come on him and he comes inside of me, all I can think is that there's nothing in this world that's ever felt as right as this.
**
I awake to something hard against my ass. Something I want.
Even half-asleep as I am, my body knows what it wants. I nuzzle my ass against his cock and it slips right inside my pussy.
Whoa. Yeah.
At first, just shallowly, he teases my pussy. In and out. A bit in, then out. Fuck.
I'm already so wet.
I shove myself back onto him, so that he's in me deeper, better, more. He grunts. I moan.
This, this is what I need. This is what makes sense of everything else.
Fuck logic and sense and 'should' - this is what decides things.
Landon wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him. In and out, deep and deeper. Our bodies slap together and he caresses my breasts, my ass. We're one movement, one forward motion. One undeniable urge satisfying itself. Yes. Fucking yes.
"That's it," Landon murmurs into my ear, "That's my girl."
And it's just like before, only not. It's even better.
He runs his hands along my curves like worship. He moves me around, angles my torso and legs like I'm a doll. Although nothing gets him jackhammering me harder than hearing my moans pick up.
"You gonna come for me, baby?" he says, when my body breaks into uncontrollable shaking, with my legs propped up against his chest, as he drills me nice and deep. "You gonna say my name?"
Everything is a groan, pleasure climbing higher and higher, until he pauses. "You gonna say my name when you come?"
"Fuck you," I moan, twisting myself onto him.
I'm so close, I just need...
"Fuck you," he growls back.
And then he plows me harder than ever, and everything blasts away. Yes, yes, yes!
"Landon!" a voice that's not mine cries out.
"Kyra!" a voice that's not his returns.
And all I can think, silly in his arms as our bodies wrap around each other and then pick up where we left off, more of more, more pleasure, more us, is that this is like a fairytale.
That this - us - we work. I was wrong about everything, too afraid. This - us - we work.
And then, as Landon's hard cock goes inside me again, it all starts up again.
**
Morning.
I'm warmer than usual and... naked?
My eyes snap open and I remember. Ohhh... Fuck.
Ohhh fuck no.
I swallow, then strain around to peer at Landon's peaceful still-asleep face.
Oh fuck yes?
I mean, the sex was... ugh.
I put that aside. Better not think about it. For now. Or a while.
I sink back into the bed, closing my eyes.
Maybe if I could sleep for just a little longer...
My eyes snap open.
So much for going slow. How was this past night in any way, shape or form 'slow'?
Still, am I really sorry it happened? The grocery shopping, the PJ shopping, the dinner, the dancing, the hotel room, the Jacuzzi, the sex, Landon saying "I love you..."
Hold the hell up.
Did Landon actually say "I love you?"
It doesn't matter. It's not the time to think of that - or be here.
It's time to go.
I take longer than strictly necessary to extricate myself from his arms. The last thing I need right now is him waking up. This is taking all of my self-control as it is, even with the persistent voice banging on the inside of my skull: What the hell have you done?
It scrambles me into my clothes, proper buttons to proper button holes be damned. Shoes without socks, dress on the dresser. And then, one last look at him.
God, that beautiful, beautiful man. He looks so peaceful, so content. As if I'm still in his arms.
Although, who knows, maybe he's just a peaceful-looking sleeper in general?
I pause. Nope, can't remember.
But still, am I really going to leave like this without saying goodbye?
My phone goes off. I don't check it, but I remember. The real reason I have to go, can't spend the rest of the day and the day after that with him.
I have a daughter. A life.
Luckily, there's no one to see my walk of shame (is it a walk of shame?) as I leave the hotel. I get to admire the mirror-panel walls, the marble step that leads to every room.
Yes, everyone's busy living their lives, minding their own business. I need to get back to doing the same. I was doing well. So very well, before.
