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“Jess,” he says my name on a sigh, and I melt. There it is, that’s what I need. He reaches down and pulls at my lower lip with the tip of his thumb, then gently cradles my face, ironically mimicking the way I’m cradling his balls.
“Eddie.”
He flips his hand so his palm is at my throat and guides me to my feet. “Normally, I have a lot of control. I pride myself in it. But today, you”—this sigh is the most magnificent yet—“I don’t want fight it. God, I want to fuck you. All those snarky little comments you’ve been making, the innuendos, the verbal foreplay, I want to take you up on each and every act you’ve alluded to.” He literally has me in the palm of his hand, his fingertips pressing in just right on my airway.
“Finally,” I rasp, filling my lungs where I can. “Please,” I beg, knowing that he is the only man I have ever begged, offering myself to him for the taking.
Time stops, for a second, maybe two, until he releases me, spinning me toward the island. Yessss… My palms slap against the marble, and Eddie whips my leggings down my legs. Just my leggings because why wear panties when I’m chilling at home, right? God, my stupid brain.
The grumbled “fuck” gets me back on track as does the thick finger that slides easily inside me. When he adds a second one and pumps them in and out, the slick sounds are—God, I hope he doesn’t think that’s gross. Too much. I’ve been told I was too much before, and—
“Thank fuck you’re so wet for me. So ready for me, like a good little bunny.”
I moan shamelessly at his words, at the praise, at the pet name that not one other person in the world has ever been able to get away with calling me. Or maybe it’s the two thick fingers tap, tap, tapping at the magic spot inside me. “More. Please, Eddie, give me more.”
His chuckle is low and dirty, full of gravel and promises.
I hold my breath when I lose his fingers. And when the fat blunt head of his cock nudges against my opening, I lower my chest and tilt my hips, offering myself to him. I blow out that breath as he works himself inside me.
“Fuck, your little cunt is tight.” He rocks his hips, coaxing my body to take his. “Christ, you’re doing so good, such a good girl taking my fat dick.”
I’m so full, stretched so… good. Good is the only work I can think of and maybe that’s because he says it over and over and over again.
Good girl.
Good little bunny.
Good. Good. Good.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant as he works, cursing and praising until finally, with one last shove, he’s fully seated. His hips meet my ass, fingers gripping me so tightly I just know that I’ll have marks and that they’ll be beautiful. Maybe I’ll get little stars tattooed over each as a permanent badge of honor.
Heavy breaths sweep across my bare shoulder where my sweater has slipped down. “You good?”
There’s that word again, and as much as I would love to expand our vocabulary, my brain is finally focused on the moment and all I can manage is, “So good.”
He slides one hand up the center of my chest and wraps it around my throat once again. And then he drags his hot thick cock almost entirely from my body before slamming back in.
My cry of ecstasy is quieted by a squeeze of his hand. And the cycle repeats—drag, thrust, cry—until my muscles tighten and an orgasm barrels through me, leaving me gasping and bucking in his arms.
“Fuck, yes. Milk my cock. Squeeze me so fucking—” The grunt that follows is the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.
Eddie relaxes against my back, giving me his weight and pinning me to the counter without crushing me as we catch our breaths. We stay just like that until he starts to soften. And when he stands, sliding from my body, the loss is big. Huge. Pun very much intended.
He places his palm to my back and says, “Stay there a second.”
I do. Cheek pressed to the cool stone as I watch him wet my tea towel and bring it back, cleaning his cum from between my legs. When he’s done, I turn in place and assess the man who just rocked my world.
Chapter 14
Fun & Games
EDDIE
“So, that was fun.” Jess tosses that statement out like we played fucking Parcheesi or something.
I stand opposite her with my dick out, a cum rag in my hand, and stare at her like she’s an anomaly. She is. I tuck my dick back in my pants and go to the laundry room to toss the towel in the basket. I don’t know if that’s good etiquette; most likely it’s not. Nothing like drying dishes next week with a towel I now have history with.
Maybe I should have just thrown it away, but it feels odd to backtrack over a towel when there are much bigger issues to address. Because if Jess thinks that was nothing but fun, she is sorely mistaken.
