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She knows what she likes. And she’s unafraid to ask for it and take it. It’s part of what makes her easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever been with, and I haven’t even been inside of her yet.
“On here or somewhere else?” I ask as her body begins to sag.
“If you want it somewhere else, you’re going to have to carry me. My legs are mush.”
Hmmm. Tempting. All so tempting. But I’m not sure I can wait any longer.
I slide down my boxer briefs, roll on the condom, and then scoot her to the edge of the machine. I glance up while rubbing the head of my cock against her opening.
“Right here.” I point to my eyes and then slide inside her, watching what it feels like through her eyes as she does the same with me. Once I’m seated all the way to the hilt, I give us both a second to acclimate because if I move, even a tiny amount before I get myself under control, I’m going to blow my load.
Becausefuuuuckshe feels good.
It feels like a goddamn wet fist is gripping my cock, and the washing machine is still going, and I can feel that too. I inhale a deep breath through my nose, exhale, and then repeat. And once I think I’m ready, I slide out of her and then thrust back in and hold once more.
“Like that? Slow and steady or do you want to get pounded before the machine stops?”
Hazy blue eyes hold mine and she licks her lips. Her hands are back, palms planted firmly on top of the machine for support and to improve our angle. Long legs wrap themselves around me.
“Pound me. Don’t stop until I beg you to.”
Motherfuck. She’s perfect.
I do as she asks. I start to pound into her. Punishing thrusts that have her tits bouncing and the machine inching back into the wall. Deep, hard fucks that have me bruisingly gripping her hips to hold her against me. I ram into her over and over again, forcing loud cries and sharp moans from her mouth along with deep, low, guttural growls from me.
I’m sweating, my ass cheeks are clenching, and I can’t stop watching her.
Her eyes are closed now, her head tilted back exposing her long, graceful neck. I haven’t kissed her once since we got back here, and it pisses me off enough that I grab her by the back of her head and force her mouth to mine. Our kisses are wet and sloppy, a conglomerate of panting breaths.
We continue to fuck, unbridled and unhinged, both chasing our pleasure in the other. She goes over the edge first, her nails raking down my back and her “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, yes,” in my ear. My cock thickens, my balls draw up tight, and then I unleash myself inside her with a roar. I still, clinging to her, holding her close, trying to catch my breath.
Buzzzzzz.
The washing machine signals the end of its cycle and then stops, the sound making us laugh with breathy smiles.
“That was fun.”
She’s fun.
“Wanna take a shower and go another round?” I ask, pulling back far enough to meet her eyes.
“Definitely. Are you a twofer or a threefer sort of guy?”
I bark out a laugh as I pull myself out of her and remove the condom. “I’m an ‘as many times as you can take it before you pass out’ sort of guy.”
The goddess smiles at me, all bright sunshine eclipsing the gloom outside, and something foreign inside my chest twinges. I ignore it as I help her down and we go for round two in the shower followed by round three in my bed.
This is not how I thought this night was going to end when I walked into the restaurant.
She’s not something I ever saw coming.
Which is why I’m not shocked when I wake up at four a.m. alone. It’s also why I don’t bother second-guessing myself when I grab the pillow she was using and bury my face in it as I force myself to go back to sleep while breathing in the faint scent of her.
I don’t know her last name, and she made it clear last night was all she was looking for from me. I’m sure I’ll never see her again.
And I can’t help but be a little disappointed by that.
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