His eyes flare with heat. Apparently, this is something Luke likes too.
“Where?” he asks, his voice a gravelly grunt.
“The couch.”
He stands up and takes my hand, leading me to the living room.
I climb onto the couch, positioning myself on all fours with my breasts hanging down and my hands braced on an armrest. Anticipation is part of the thrill as he climbs onto the cushion behind me. It’s cool in my apartment and my nipples pucker as the couch depresses a little. His hands land on my lower back, resting for a moment before one slides slowly over my ass and hooks beneath to find my clit. It’s soaked and throbbing, slick and pulsing, and he rubs it gently with two fingers, round and round, as his other hand reaches under me to fondles my breasts. He pinches and tweaks, massages and rubs. Soon, I’m writhing against him, my panted breath shallow as my ass grinds against his balls.
“You want me?” he asks, leaning over my back, his breath tickling my ear.
“Yes,” I answer, dropping my forehead onto the armrest to give him perfect, unhampered access to my sex.
“I want you too,” he says, sliding inside of me in one, smooth thrust, the tip of his cock touching the tip of my cervix and filling me so completely, it feels like no man has ever come before or could satisfy me after.
The walls of my pussy clench fiercely, clutching onto him, inviting his intrusion, and clamoring for more when he pulls back only to surge forward once again. His hands clamp down on my hips and I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of his body using mine, smacking into mine; the friction of his penis rubbing the walls of my vagina. The crescendo of sensations builds, grows, crests…until I convulse around him in frantic contractions, milking his cum as he cries out my name—Amanda!—then falls to his side, shifting me with him.
He is still intimately connected to me as we spoon on my couch, as tears that I can’t explain fill my eyes, and I realize that the best sex of my entire life is with a partner I only have in my life for seven more days.
Luke
“She’s good for you,” my sister insists. “That’s all I’m saying.”
It’s Wednesday night and we’re at Bonnie and Ted’s house. The twins are already in bed and my kids are building a fire for s’mores in the backyard ring, so it’
ll be ready after dinner. Ted should be home from work at any second to get the grill started, and at six o’clock, Amanda will be ringing the doorbell.
Amanda.
Damn, but that woman is quickly becoming an addiction for me.
For three days in a row I’ve spent my lunchbreak having sex with her, and I’m starting to think it’s going to be really depressing the first day I show up at her apartment only to discover she’s gone back to Seattle.
“It’s only temporary,” I remind Bonnie.
“Temporary,” my sister scoffs. “You weren’t looking at her on Monday night like what you’ve got is temporary.”
“But it is. Not to mention, it’s already Wednesday. She goes back to Seattle next week.”
“And how far is Seattle? Last I checked, it was only a two-hour flight.”
“And costs anywhere from two- to four-hundred dollars per trip.”
She huffs softly as she shapes a mound of ground beef into patties. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
I shake my head, taking a cold beer out of the fridge. “It’s a fling, Bonnie. It’s just…a fling. We agreed.”
“So agree on something else.”
“What’s the point? We live in different states and we barely know each other.”
“Spend more time together. Get to know each other.” She grins at me. “The girls adore her.”
I roll my eyes. I love my sister, but man, she is exasperating. “They know her less than I do!”
“Fine,” she says, shrugging with annoyance. “Stay single the rest of your life. Make your whole life a shrine to Wendy.”
Does my soft gasp clue her into the fact that she’s gone a little too far? I think it probably does.