by Sophia Gray
“Mm, yes, please,” Jamie kept muttering. She kept telling me to keep going, to fuck her, to touch her. She all but begged me not to fucking stop, and I loved it.
I pinched her nipple as my cock pistoned in and out of her willing body. Her hand gripped my shoulder tightly, her nails digging slightly into the flesh. She groaned and moaned and rocked her hips into mine, trying to get me in even deeper, even though there was no more damn room.
“You like that?” I demanded as I pinched her nipple again at the same time I thrust into her. God, she was fucking tight. “Do you?”
She nodded her head and let out a low moan. “Yes!”
“Good. Then fucking touch your tits and play with them. Pinch your own nipples.”
She let out a gasp that could have been from my command or from the way I was continuing to fuck her tight, wet pussy. Either way, she did as I commanded. Leaning her back against the wall for support, her hands moved to her large breasts. Mine slipped back down to her other thigh and used it to give me more leverage as I thrust into her.
She began to play with her tits, just as I told her to. I knew she liked being ordered around, I thought smugly.
I watched her pinch her own nipples, moaning and whimpering. It turned me on further, and I knew that I wouldn’t last much longer. This had already been a lot, given how worked up I was over her. I wanted to fuck her since that first night, and it was killing me that it had taken a week to get to this point.
But I didn’t want to be the only one to get off. I wanted her to fall off that cliff, too. I let one of my hands move up along her thigh to where our bodies joined. From there, I let my fingers move to right above where my cock plowed into her. Her lips were swollen now, a bright, wet pink color. I moved between them until I found her little nub.
When I flicked it with my finger, she screamed.
Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, smoothing a look of ecstasy across her sweet features. I felt her clench around me, eliciting my own climax. It hit me hard and fast. I got two more thrusts into her warm body before spilling into her. I spasmed uncontrollably until I was spent, then my head fell to rest against her heaving breasts.
For a long time, neither of us said or did anything. We just breathed heavily, trying to come back to reality.
I tried to ignore the growing feeling in my chest, telling myself that it was only lust, but as I softened inside of her, I wondered if that was true. I wondered if what I was feeling for her wasn’t just possessiveness and lust.
Willing myself not to chase the thought, I closed my eyes and just rested against her, breathing her in.
Chapter Thirteen
Jamie
There were orgasms and then there was whatever the hell that just was. I felt like he’d just scrambled my insides, whipped them up into a nice frothy goodness, and then melted it all like a cup of real, honest-to-God, smoldering hot chocolate.
His head was leaning against me still, his face buried in between my breasts, his hands still gripping my thighs. He was softening inside of me, slowly slipping from my sopping wet folds. I felt like…like I had been put through the ringer, then left to deal with some sort of boneless aftermath.
Because I did feel boneless. I was still leaning heavily against the wall, and I was pretty sure that if he hadn’t been acting as a sort of counterweight, I would have slumped off the counter onto the floor by now.
That was good sex, the kind that most women only dreamed about. Hell, it was the kind I only dreamed about. Pure lustiness.
Except now that I was this close to him, both of our bodies still naked and coated with a fine sheen of slowly cooling sweat, I was starting to think. A dangerous thing, given what we’d just done and all that had happened leading up to this point.
What were you thinking? A small, annoying voice in the back of my head whispered angrily.
My arms moved of their own accord. My limbs trembled with the effort, but it was worth it. Finding his hair, my hands smoothed through his thick strands. They were dampened from his earlier efforts, but they were still soft and silky. He groaned slightly into my breasts, his breath hot against them. My body jumped again in reaction to him, and if I hadn’t just been thoroughly and properly fucked, I might have been interested in round two.
But I was still boneless, and right now, all I wanted was this—whatever this was.
We spent several more minutes wrapped up in each other before Pax finally let out a long breath. “We should get cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice low but soft. It was different than anything I’d heard yet, not quite sweet but close. Probably as close as a man like him ever got.
I nodded my head, but of course, he couldn’t see that. He was still leaning against me, and I still had my hands in his hair. He’d yet to look up. “We should,” I confirmed, my voice quiet.
Still, we lingered against each other’s bodies. When Pax finally pulled away, I felt chilled and bereft. I wanted him back, and that desire scared me a little. Did I honestly think this was going to be something? Was a man like Pax capable of having anything real, anything concrete with a woman? I wasn’t sure, but the idea that he might be willing to make an exception for me sent an emotional thrill through my body.
“C’mon,” he murmured, putting his hands on my waist. He lifted me off the counter, helping to ease me down.
Turning to the large shower, he turned on the faucet and fussed with the temperature for a minute. I took the opportunity to let my gaze sweep lazily over his body. His back was broad and muscled, just like the rest of his incredibly fit body. His frame tapered down to his waist before forming his butt. And it was a nice butt, firm with the lines in the sides that bespoke of very little fat on him.
It was impossible to not be impressed by that.
His muscular legs were long and thick. I pictured them holding the both of us up and admitted to myself that the idea sent another trickle of desire through me. I didn’t know why this man pulled me to him so strongly, but now that I’d given in to the physical desire, I wasn’t quite sure how to start resisting again.
Especially since I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Pax straightened up, satisfied with the water temperature. Turning to me, he offered me his hand, palm up. It was calloused and rough but large. The fingers were thick and long, and I remembered how they felt buried within me, how I’d licked my own taste off of them.
Blushing at the memory, I accepted his hand by placing my own in it. He helped me into the shower, then followed me in. Standing beneath the spray, I let a shiver race through my body, the water already beginning to soothe my muscles.
“Too hot?” he murmured quietly.
I shook my head, then stepped beneath the spray to get my hair wet. Closing my eyes against the cascading water, I smiled a little and said, “Perfect.”
I moved out from directly under the spray enough that I could open my eyes without getting water in them. In front of me, Pax was pouring a small ammount of liquid soap onto the palm of his hand. Then he grabbed a washcloth and began rubbing the soap into it until it lathered a little. Stepping forward, he met my eyes, questioning me with an arch of his eyebrow.
Smiling a little, I nodded.
Pax closed the distance between us and placed the washcloth against my body. He began to wash me. He started just below my jaw, sliding the cloth against my skin, soaping me up. He was quiet as he worked, moving along my neck, then to my collarbone. Slow and methodical, he moved over my shoulders and down my arms. He was careful, mindful of the tiny cuts I’d received from the car accident.
Had that even been the same night? If it had been even an hour ago, I’d be surprised.
When he reached my hands, he paused. They still looked pretty bad. They were torn up from the broken glass of my windshield. I’d crawled out through the opening, but though I’d tried to clear away as much of the glass as possible, I’d still managed to step in it. My knees were a little rough, too.
Pax carefully wash
ed my hands. The soap stung a little but nowhere near as bad as the alcohol. I patiently let him wash away the blood, holding still despite the slight stinging. He gave both hands equal treatment, and when they were done, he moved on. The cloth slipped over my breasts, one at a time. He paid them special attention, which led me to believe he probably wasn’t doing this solely to wash away the remains of salty sweat and sex.
A thrill ran through me again, but I didn’t act on it. I left my arms at my side and gave him free rein of my body.
When he was finished soaping up my breasts, he moved lower. His cloth dipped along my ribcage and my navel. His thumb trailed along the middle of my torso before briefly swirling along my belly button.
His ministrations continued, and when he got between my legs, he washed me carefully but not clinically. He washed me, sure, but he touched me, too. His fingers played along the edges of my lips and even dipped between them. I was almost embarrassed by how wet I was, but if he thought it was unusual, he didn’t say anything.
Pax remained completely silent.
He washed my thighs and reached around to wash my rear, too. All the while, his fingers continued to play with me. He probed my entrance, even letting one finger slip inside me. I let out a sound that was caught between a groan and a sigh. I was already going to be sore—my nether lips were slightly swollen from what we’d just done—but I couldn’t deny that my body responded positively to his touch all over again.
It seemed like he spent forever, attentive to my body’s every need. He washed me thoroughly and carefully and cleaned the nicks and cuts along my arms and legs. It was only when he was done that I held out my hand.
He looked at it questioningly.
“Soap,” I told him simply.
He hesitated for a long moment as though debating the wisdom of affording me the same liberty he’d just had—of washing his body. But then he offered me the washcloth and a generous ammount of soap.
I rubbed the soap into the cloth until it lathered, then turned my attentions to him. My hands ran over his hard, muscled body, feeling his bulging biceps and his broad shoulders. I washed his hard pecs and let my hands drag over the hard lines of his abs, one at a time. I felt his body tense beneath me and couldn’t help but notice that his member was growing again. He was only half hard, but I could tell it wouldn’t take much to push him the rest of the way.
Putting some soap into the palm of my hand, I put the washcloth to the side entirely and caressed his length with my bare hand. He groaned softly, like he was trying to keep the sound in, as I touched him. I washed his length, which grew quickly in my hands and then dipped my hands lower to grip his balls. I washed them, too.
Pax tensed, putting a hand against the tiled wall for balance, leaning towards me slightly as I continued to stroke him.
As I cleaned him meticulously, I admitted to myself that this might be a bad idea. My last relationship didn’t go so well, and it definitely didn’t end so well. What was worse, I was pretty sure that whatever this intense attraction was between us, we probably weren’t looking at a relationship. We were looking at hard, fast fucking. A great lay. But decidedly a one-night stand.
But even as these thoughts swirled in my head, I couldn’t help but touch Pax. I couldn’t help sliding my hand up his long, hard shaft and swirling my hand around the tip before plunging back down.
His hips jerked towards my hand involuntarily, and I thought I heard him gasp.
I continued to fondle him, but it wasn’t until he reached for me and dragged me against his body that things migrated from gentle touching to more. His mouth found mine and he kissed me like there was no tomorrow, like this was it for him, this moment between us. It was a wonderful kiss—but a deceiving one. Because there would be a tomorrow, it just wouldn’t have any kisses or any glorious sex. It would have him telling me to fuck off.
That thought was almost enough for me to put a halt on what was happening. Almost. But then I opened my mouth, and his tongue slipped inside, tasting me. I was lost.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. Might as well get what I can from this.
Intensity bloomed between us as his hand went between my legs once more, caressing my folds. I felt two fingers slip inside me this time, and I moaned into his hot kiss. One hand tangled in my hair, the other went to my hips and jerked me tightly against him. His erection was trapped between us, and I groaned. I wanted him all over again.
He pretty clearly wanted me, too.
He spread my legs slightly, then moved me so that my back was against the wall. One hand went to my thigh and opened me up, but the other lingered in my hair, gripping it and tugging on it.
His hips lined up with mine, and with one quick motion, he was sheathed inside me, buried so deep that I felt him take up every slip of space available. I moaned and he groaned, our sounds drowned out by the running water.
He began to pump into me quickly, urgently, like we hadn’t both come just minutes earlier. The passion between us grew quickly and spread like wildfire until we were both burning up in it. Our slick bodies slid against one another as he jerked his hips into me over and over again, his hard length filling my hot core each time.
I gasped as I felt my orgasm build again.
Managing to get one hand between our bodies, I pressed my fingers into the little bundle of nerves just above my opening. I started to tease it as Pax’s breathing grew ragged. I knew he wouldn’t last long, so I moved myself along, this wild need to come together—or nearly together—burrowing itself inside my chest.
Each flick of my nub matched each thrust of his hips. I felt the heat and the pressure build, and it only took a moment before I was sent spiraling into oblivion, crying out weakly against him. He was right there with me, and for the second time, he spilled himself inside me.
After that, we washed again quickly and got out. I wrapped a towel around my body as he dried off quickly and quietly. He grabbed the door, then paused, glancing at me. I wasn’t sure of the look in his eyes but I thought at the very least it was affection.
“C’mon,” he murmured. “We have some things to talk about.”
# # #
He led me to my room and after I’d stepped inside, closed the door behind me. Turning to face me, he considered me for a moment. His eyes trailed over my body, and I was aware that I was clad only in a towel. My body was exhausted enough that the flutter it gave me was muted, and I didn’t think I was in any danger of falling prey to his wonderful body once more.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Are you on the pill?”
My eyebrows shot up at the question. Did he just ask… “What?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I felt like a moron. Of course he wanted to know whether or not I was on the pill. He’d just come in me—twice. And we hadn’t used a condom.
Jesus, and I’m a damn nurse!
My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. If someone else had done what I’d just done, I’d chew their ass for being so irresponsible. And with a partner that probably wasn’t monogammous and one they didn’t know that well.
Well, that just gave me some serious points in the department of idiocy.
“It’s not a fucking difficult question,” he told me gruffly, and gosh, I was just so happy to see that he was back to his rude self.
Asshole.
Clearing my throat, I gripped the towel around my body a little tighter. “Yes.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
I don’t know why that answer annoyed me so much, other than the fact that it came from him and just about every answer that came out of his mouth annoyed me. Narrowing my eyes at him, I asked, “What about you?”
He raised a single brow. “No, I’m not on the pill.”
The redness on my cheeks darkened as my blush intensified. “I meant, are you clean?”
“Not what you asked.”
Making a frustrated sound in my throat, I said, “Fine. Are you clean?�
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He nodded, and I felt a little of the worry that had been filling my chest dissipate. “Yes. I get tested regularly. Can never be too sure with the kind of kinky women I like.”
His eyes bored into me, and for a second, I thought he was daydreaming about dirty acts, like what kind of kinky things could he get me to do? But I shoved that aside, hoping that wasn’t what he wanted to talk to me about. And that he was too damn tired to try for round three. I knew I sure as hell was.
“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Whether or not I’m on the damn pill?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not.”
When he paused long enough that I didn’t think he’d offer up any more information, I asked, “Well?”