Page 58 of The Pleasure of Panic

“I just do. I mean, I have a ton of other questions for you, Agent Murphy. I do. And I’ll need answers to them eventually. But right now…” She sighs deeply, looks away from me, but then her eyes dart back. “I’ve had enough. That’s why. I’ve just had enough. If it’s all just fantasy, fine. Because I kinda need one.”

“The missing spaces in your past,” I say.

She bites her lip. But unlike all the other seductive stuff she’s done tonight, I’m convinced she’s not even trying to be sexy right now. She’s just… her. Then she shrugs. “That, Agent Murphy, is a very long story. And we’re too tired to bare our souls to each other right now. But”—she leans her face into my neck, inhaling deeply, like she’s trying to capture my scent—“we can still end this properly.”

End it?

I dunno if I want to end it. But her soft breathing, her body positioned over mine—her pussy, I realize—her bare breasts right in front of me, just begging to be touched—that’s a very, very good way to keep the night alive.

My hands find her small waist, gripping it, urging her to sit down on my lap. Which she does. And then she starts moving back and forth across my cock. I’m still semi-hard from when she almost took me into her mouth, but that doesn’t last long. It only takes seconds for me to grow long and thick for her.

She bows her head, pressing her forehead into mine. I gaze up at her, my hands on her ass now. “Like you said, there’s pleasure in panic or something like that.”

Did I say that? I don’t remember and I don’t care either. I want to be inside her. Right now.

She lifts her hips up, reading my mind, and then her hand is between her legs. I look down in time to see her bring my cock out from my sweats and place it near her opening.

She flicks it back and forth, the wetness of her desire coating the tip of my head. And then she sits down, I slide inside her like we’re meant to fit together this way, and we both moan.

It’s different than the last time we fucked. Completely. It’s slow, and easy, and there’s nothing fast and hard about it at all.

Her breathing keeps pace with mine. It’s labored, and heavy, and intoxicating.

I let my fingers find her asshole, which makes her panic for a moment, but only a moment. She relaxes because I’m gentle. My probing is safe. And my intent isn’t to penetrate her, but pleasure her.

Maybe that’s what I meant. The pleasure of panic.

She’s still gripping my shoulders, but now she lets her back arch as her head falls back, her hips leaning into mine so I’m deep inside her belly. And then she begins to grind in earnest. Her eyes open. My eyes open. Meeting in the middle as she fucks me, and I finger her, and then my free hand drops to her clit and I begin to massage it. Every time she thrusts forward, I pinch it, which makes her wince, but not in pain.

The thought of spankings, and riding crops, and fuck-me boots are far behind us now. As far away as yesterday morning is.

I study her like she’s a precious piece of art. I watch her face as her expressions change. I see every emotion she’s feeling. I see lust, I see longing, I see the sensual satisfaction I’m bestowing on her.

She takes it. All of it, and all of me, and then I’ve got my arms wrapped around her back, and she’s got her arms wrapped around my neck. And our thrusting—our fucking—becomes stillness. The moment freezes, my cock buried so deep inside her, I feel nothing but her wet pussy gripping me. Welcoming me. Begging me to—

It’s one of those silent orgasms. There’s no yelling, there’s no grunting, there’s no sweat. It’s just stillness until I explode, and she explodes, and we mix together, creating something new. Something perfect.

Breathing hard, she sinks into my chest. I hug her so tight, I start to worry about cutting off her breathing. But when I loosen my grip, she says, “No.”

And I obey her command. Because it’s the right thing to do .

We stay like that for several minutes. Silent. I feel my cock relax and then slip out of her. My come spills out with it, coating my legs, which makes her sigh.

Her mind must be in the same place as mine, because she whispers, “I’m on the pill,”

Which is great, because I lost all fucking control and didn’t even think about it.

Then she says, “This was way better.”

And even though she doesn’t explain, I know. I get it. I understand her.

“So much better, “ I say. And then I stand up, bringing her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to the bathroom and set her down on the counter. Which makes her gasp, because it’s granite and cold.

I find that adorable, so I smile the whole time I’m turning on the shower and slipping my sweats down my legs. And then I lift the negligee over her head, throw it into the corner of the bathroom, lift her up, and carry her into the shower, pressing her back up against the tile wall.

We say nothing as we fuck again. This time I pin her in place the way she captured me out there on the couch. She goes limp as I fuck her hard, one hand under each of her knees, holding her up. Her arms are wrapped tightly around my neck like she’ll never let go as she grinds her clit against the top of my shaft until she can’t take it anymore.

She bites my shoulder as she comes.