Page 75 of Jonesing for a Spy

Groaning, I put my mouth to her mound.

Her hands hit my shoulders, and she gazes down at me, utterly tilting the axis of my life.

And this is it. This is the moment my timeline changes. There is before and there is after. But this is the new calendar of my life. The sun rises and sets with Mirren. The moon and the tides ebb and flow based on her whims. She is time. And my clocks have just reset.

“Mirren.”

“Strider,” she returns, not in question, but in knowing. “Take me to bed, honey. I need to come. And I need to watch you come undone under my hands and in my mouth.”

I stand, sliding up her body, dragging my hands up her sides and slower than I’d think possible in my state, unbuttoning every barrier between me and her gorgeous, creamy skin as I go.

My cock throbs behind my pants. It’s painful and needs to be freed, but Mirren first. Always Mirren first.

Pushing the shirt from her shoulders, I take in the blush-colored lace bra that holds her tits up. I dive onto one and then the other, squeezing and mashing them. I’ve lost all finesse.

I’m driven by need, by desire. I’m thoughtless and desperate. “Up.” I lift her, and she wraps her legs around me, locking her ankles.

Her heat tempts my cock to strain for her. Ten steps later, she’s laid out on the bed like a spread before a starving man. It’s me—I’m that man.

A hand behind my neck yanks my sweater and t-shirt off in one go. I step out of my shoes at the same time. Well, shoe. The other one is stuck, and it can stay there for all I care. I don’t give a single fuck.

I fold over the woman who is mine and place a kiss on her chest. “You ready for me, baby? I’m barely holding on. If I taste you, I’ll never make it.”

Her fingers brush my dick as she reaches between her lips. “Soaked. And I don’t need slow. I need you.”

Our hands fight at my belt and at my zipper. Jeans down to barely my knees, Mirren puts the last nail in my coffin. She lifts her ankles over my shoulders and looks up at me. “Fuck me. Please.”

Rubbing the head of my cock through her wetness, I line up and slam home.

Our collective groans fill the room. That, our pants, and the sounds of flesh slapping. On my knees between her thighs, I pound into her, driving deep, trying to take more, give more. The angle with her hips so high is enough to drive me over the edge.

Mirren, too, apparently. “I’m close. I’m close. I’m going to come, Strider. I need to come.”

Thumbing her clit with rough strokes, I drive deep and hard. “Get there, baby. Need you to get there.”

But I don’t have to say it. She screams, and I know it’s not fake. Her pussy clamps down on my dick like a vise and tries to suck me in and push me out at the same time. It’s heaven and it’s hell, and it’s my favorite place ever. I don’t even get two more strokes before the sizzle racing down my spine tightens my balls, and I explode inside her with the most powerful orgasm of my life.

It’s draining. It’s exhausting. And I want it again and again.

And again.

Forever.

32

blissed out in neverland

Mirren

My gut is good. I’m not being played. I’ve been fucked but not fucked over. Strider isn’t some criminal operative who’s using me for nefarious purposes.

Unless those purposes are for fabulous sex. In which case, I volunteer to be played… like a symphony.

“Fuck me,” he says from just below my ear.

“I think I just did.” Squeezing my inner muscles, I remind him where he is right now.

“Every time I think it can’t get better. How can it keep getting better?”