“The ladies’ room,” she said, leaning up to nip his chin. “Less traffic, I’m sure.”
“We’d have to do it standing up.”
“I could straddle you on the toilet.”
“Now, that’s a romantic image.”
“I don’t need romance. I need this,” she said, lifting her hips to meet his strokes. “God, harder, Billy.”
With a quick kiss to her lips, he reached down and thrust his arms under her thighs, and then straightened, kneeling on the bed and dragging her hips upward. When he began to stroke again, she had a view she was sure would be burned forever in her memory—his powerful muscles rippling along his abdomen as his cock surged inside her, his biceps flexing as he jerked her forward and back.
She watched the long column of his cock, slick and red, tunneling in and out, and wondered what he saw behind his half-lidded gaze. Whether her body pleased him half as much.
And because she could never be shy with him, she drew his hard, feral gaze as she cupped her breasts, massaging them, plucking her nipples and then tugging them into short, pink stems that quivered each time he hit her with another sharp thrust.
Then she skimmed her hands downward, over her belly, sliding down to massage her labia which were stretched tight around him, pulling them upward to expose her clit to his glittering gaze, then circling it with one fingertip until her back arched, her eyes slid closed, and she was moaning—a thin, high-pitched sound broken by the furious, frenzied strokes he delivered.
His shout sounded above her, and he halted, his body jerking as warm spurts of come flooded her channel. He fell over her, resting on her body, his sweat coating her chest and belly as he shuddered against her.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and hugged him close, sliding kisses on his moist cheek and shoulder then snuggling her face into the corner of his neck.
They lay like that, entwined, as close as two people could get, until he lifted his head. “You have to let go so I can slide out. I’m crushing you.”
Gillian smiled, suddenly so tired she could barely keep her eyes opened. “I can’t move.”
His hands reached behind him and unhooked her legs to slide them down. Then he rolled to his side, bringing her with him, their bodies still locked together. He lifted her thigh over his hip, and his hand lingered on her ass. “That was the sexiest thing I ever saw.”
“Liked watching me touch myself?”
“I think I’d like to watch you make yourself come.”
“Really think you could and not take over?”
“Good point. You might have to cuff me to the bed,” he admitted with a wry grin.
“Then I’d be tempted to see how long it takes for me to make you come.”
“Guess we might have to wait until we’re old and gray. Maybe by them I’ll have learned some patience.”
“I don’t want you to change a thing.” She closed her eyes, and then opened one to peek at him. “You said—when we’re old and gray. Sounds like you think this might be a permanent thing.”
“Did I skip the part where I asked you to marry me?”
She stared at him with both eyes wide. “Really?”
“Don’t sound so thrilled,” he said, irritably.
“If you think about it, we haven’t known each other very long.”
“I know I’m moving fast. But I want this thing nailed before we get to SA.”
“Afraid I’ll change my mind? Or that I might not be as creeped out by Gabriel as I claim?”
He shook his head, opening his mouth. And then gave her a sheepish look. “I don’t know.”
Gillian shook her head. “Billy, I never wanted him. He did something to make me want him, every time.”
“But he kept you aroused enough to be vulnerable to me. I was supposed to keep you primed. Happy in between.”