Must Love Pogs

by Xavier Neal

  My pussy whimpers at the loss as much as my mouth does.

  With a smug smirk, he commands, “Ankles on my shoulders.”

  There’s no hesitation from me in fulfilling the request. The moment I’m in position he slides back inside, except this time he leaves my lips free to cry out his name as I arch upward.

  “Oliver….”

  He offers me a pleased groan at the same time he reaches the hilt.

  “Holy shit,” I exclaim my eyes too heavy to keep open. “I don’t…I don’t think I can take much like this….”

  “Take what you can, Sunshine,” Oliver hums while gradually rocking his dick back and forth. “But open those pretty blue eyes for me.”

  They pry themselves back open to see his cut face completely enraptured with watching me. His commitment to keep his promise of remembering everything only causes my pussy to swell and his cock to reciprocate. Another sweet surrender of his name is offered alongside every thrust forward. Relentlessly, he taps my g-spot, smile spreading further each time I shake. The unhurried motions keep me on the cliff of coming. Oliver’s hands lock onto my legs, and his tongue languorously laps at every taste of my body he can get to. It isn’t long before the feeling of his tongue and cock worshiping my body in a ceaseless tandem becomes too much for me to handle. There’s one deep gasp followed promptly by my pussy pulsating wildly. My fingers fly to grip his forearms as my mouth silently struggles with praying for more and pleading to stop. The voiceless undoing alters his movements in an unpredicted way. He momentarily stills. Digs his fingers deeper into my thighs. Soaks in the sight of me quivering on his shaft. However, the moment the trembling threatens to subside, he relinquishes my legs from their high location and picks up the pace. His hips take up a more savage rhythm, which forces his cock to mercilessly tear me apart.

  Oliver’s hot lips feather the side of neck while his entire presence engulfs mine. The weight of his heaving body on top of mine leaves me defenseless to the erotic devotion he’s delivering. His hands continue roaming like wandering restraints to prevent me from shifting out of his touch. The sweet smell of his cologne brazenly bonds with the greedy groans until the only thing I can breathe in is him.

  My body shakes in unison with my voice, “Oliver….”

  “Come again for me, Sunshine.”

  I latch my nails into his biceps desperate for something to hold onto. Wave after wave of wetness washes over his cock forcing him into a submission all his own. Our bodies take turns exchanging tremors, and the deep grumble that tears through him during the process is borderline barbaric.

  Lightheaded and loving every second of it, I let my eyes shut and my face loll to the side.

  The tip of Oliver’s tongue trails itself up to my ear where he whispers, “I’m not sure one night is gonna be enough for me, London.”

  “Me either.”

  Which possibly presents a problem. We can’t keep pretending to be a pair madly in love. Eventually, we’re going to have to come back to reality and face all the ugly truths we enjoyed hiding from. And when that happens, I have no doubt London “Little L” will not be the person he wants to share his life with. In fact, I’ll probably be nothing more than a fond memory of the one time in life he let himself go with the flow rather than overthink a situation. Sometimes I wonder if the universe really does have a master plan or if it just enjoys watching people try to make sense of accidental collision courses….

  All the complaining I do about Blake being irresponsible yet here I am, behaving exactly like him. Thinking with the wrong brain. Ignoring logic for instinct.

  The feeling of London’s tongue trailing lower robs me of a heavy groan.

  I know I should stop her. That we should talk. That she should know I not only appreciate the way she saved my skin yesterday, but that I am interested in more than just the perfect way her tits fit in the palms of my hands.

  Rising onto my elbows, I instantly smile at the sight of wild, auburn curls blanketing my lap.

  Talk about a beautiful vision to wake up to….

  Guilt gnaws harder in the back of my mind over the reckless decision to sleep with a stranger.

  I was raised better than this. I was raised to take a woman out on a real date. You’re supposed to get to know what a woman likes and why she feels she has to eat salad instead of steak before you even consider sticking your dick in her mouth. At least you should when you’re a true gentleman and not a bed hopping man whore like the younger brother everyone confuses me with.

  Irritation over falling victim to comparing us the same way everyone else does causes me to sigh, “London…shouldn’t we…I don’t know….Talk?”

  Her eyes connect to mine at the same time she takes a long, slow lick of the tip of my dick.

  I groan again and grip the rumpled sheet beside me.

  “After.”

  And without another word her mouth envelops my entire shaft, the wet, hot heat collapsing me backwards. One hand inches over to thread itself into her curls while I tuck the other behind my head. Reaching the back of her throat so easily has me gritting my teeth to stop from letting go too soon.

  Which is a problem I never had prior to this little redhead.

  Her sucking is slow. Hard. Harsh. Her hand mimics her mouth by giving my nuts a similar pull. She toys with my sanity, dragging my dick all the way out to tease the tip. I lift myself back up onto my elbow to watch the show. London smirks and swirls her tongue around to lap up the pre cum spewing from the slit. The fingers planted in her hair twitch in protest, an inaudible plea for me to pull her perfect lips back down my cock. Suddenly, a playful look appears in her expression, indicating she wants me to lose control again. She wants me to have her the rough way I hate to admit I enjoy. I grip tighter on her tangles and tug her back down my dick. She viciously swallows, lips bumping profusely against the base. My hips and hand work in an oscillation to keep my cock buried against her tensing muscles. The brutal way her mouth bounces swells her lips. Reddens her cheeks. London moans in desperation for more, and the vibration tosses me over the edge before I have time to stop it. My entire body stiffens at the same time my eyes fall shut, lost to the mercy of her sucking. An animalistic howl is pried from my chest, and I give her one final yank forward. Scorching burst after burst splashes against the back of her throat. She gorges on the sticky reward, humming her satisfaction until my frame flops backwards once more.

  London takes her time slipping my spent shaft from her mouth. She litters it with light licks and kisses as if thanking it for a job well done.

  When she’s finally finished, I force my eyes open to drink in what has to be the best fluke of my entire life. Her bright smile stretches from ear to ear, and the lingering rosiness to her light complexion fills me with a sense of confidence.

  She’s turned on by me . She’s excited because she made me come. What kinda man wouldn’t be anxious to keep a woman around who wanted not only to be satisfied by him, but be the one to do it in return?

  I’ve never had that before….

  I’ve always wanted something like this before….

  I’m not exactly sure I really get to keep it now.

  Just as I drop my jaw to speak there’s a knock at the door.

  London gives my puzzled expression a giggle. “It’s room service.”

  She scampers off the bed while I simply toss a sheet over my lower extremities. “When did you have time to order room service?”

  “After sprinkling a little morning shimmer in the air.”

  Unsure of what that is or where she put it, I start looking around the room for something strange floating around. I skip the decision to ask more about what the hell she’s talking about and question, “Which was when?”

  “Right before I gave you your wake up call.”

  My face does its best not to heat.

  Her light, victorious laugh at coloring my cheeks is followed with her sliding into my black suit jacket. On her sweet, petite frame it blan
kets her like a burlap sack providing no clues to the beautiful creation underneath. I try to hide my smirk of gratitude.

  No one else should see her long, lean legs, or the freckles that trail along the curve of her hips beside her Celtic symbol tattoos. They damn sure shouldn’t see her perfect, natural tits or the way her nipples harden with a hungry stare. No. I’m the only man in the world who deserves that right.

  Wait.

  Do I deserve it? Realistically speaking, she’s still basically a stranger. I barely know more than her damn name. I’m an asshole who took advantage of an easy situation. Not a gentleman who should be given lifetime access to her.

  London saunters towards the door, and I lean forward to let my eyes follow the perky ass I know is under my coat.

  When she opens the door, the male with the cart lets his attention dip down the slightly open front.

  I instinctively bark, “Eyes. Up.”

  He immediately relocates his stare to the ceiling. “Here is the breakfast you ordered. Can I….Do you need….Should I-”

  “Go,” I bite, this time preparing to lunge off the bed to ensure he does.

  There’s a shuffling sound, and his presence disappears.

  With mirth in her voice, she questions down the hall, “You don’t want a tip?”

  “He got one when I told him where to put his eyes.”

  London snickers again as she and the cart enter further into the room. “Jealous?”

  Inordinately.

  Her eyes sparkle with so much mischief and adoration it forces me to confide, “I don’t wanna share.”

  She offers me a wink.

  Guess I don’t have to know that much about her to know what matters most. Her attention, her body, her focus should belong to me the same way she has unapologetically overthrown all of mine. That would be fair….Ha. When has my life ever been fair ?

  London swiftly removes the lid to the dishes. “Got a bit of everything here. Sausage. Bacon. Ham. Bagels. Toast. Waffles. Oatmeal. Hash browns. Fruit.” She points to the two coffee cups. “Cappuccinos.” Her dainty finger motions towards the other glasses. “Orange juice. Water.…”

  “Do you have any idea how much all that shit costs?”

  She grabs a piece of toast and begins to butter it without retorting.

  I try to push down the sensible part of my brain that wants to lecture her about the benefits of being frugal, how normal people pick one or two items as opposed to the entire menu, and why she really should wear more clothes when answering the door for complete strangers.

  A long beat passes before I state, “Room service isn’t cheap, Sunshine. Do you want me to help pay for it?”

  She smirks but shakes her head.

  “Are you sure? It’s costly.” I glance around the room we spent the entire night intimately wrecking. “As is this room….”

  “Really, Hot Stuff. It’s fine. Breakfast, like this room, cost me nothing.”

  “It’s not a free buffet.”

  “It is when you’re me.”

  Her answer settles poorly on my shoulders.

  I have no idea who she is or why she’s famous. She mentioned something about sports last night, but never elaborated. Is she an Olympic medalist?

  London plops herself on the edge of the bed beside me and has a large chomp of the toast. Crumbs cascade down my coat and across the bed causing a scowl to crawl onto my face.

  “Really? You want us to roll around in bread flakes for the rest of the day?”

  Her bright smile returns with enough light to make the sun peeking through the blinds jealous. “You really think that’s any worse than us rolling around in jizz?”

  The crass choice of language drops my jaw.

  She tosses her head back on a loud laugh, and I simply enjoy the view.

  Stunningly beautiful with a mouth that would make my mama proud.

  I snatch the piece of bread out of her hand and have a bite.

  London sucks the lost bit of spread off her thumb. “So, I don’t know what your Sunday plans really are, but I have the room until tomorrow morning if you’re interested in keeping the ones we were flirting about.”

  My cock begins to stir underneath the sheet.

  No. We have to… talk . We can’t just keep having sex. We can’t just have a physical relationship. That’s not the man I am. That’s not the man I wanna be even if for a weekend it would feel fucking amazing to be.

  “Interested in extending our time in paradise from one night to two?”

  After swallowing the remainder of the toast, I nod. “On one condition.”

  “Don’t worry. Like I told you last night, I’ve got more condoms in my bag.”

  An unexpected growl lunges up the back of my throat.

  How the hell am I jealous over the idea anyone else has ever had sex with her? There’s crazy and then there’s insane. That’s insane. This adorable spitfire is managing to transform me from a responsible, logical man into a territorial lunatic with nothing more than her luscious lips and audacious attitude.

  “That um…that wasn’t it.”

  “Then what?”

  “We talk first.”

  Her blue eyes glaze over in disappointment. “You’re back to that?”

  Unclear on why it’s a bad thing, I ask, “Why are you afraid of that?”

  “London ‘Little L’ Hall is afraid of nothing . Haven’t you heard the rumors?” She slides back off the bed and heads for the cart. “Haven’t you seen the headlines?”

  The irritation in her tone creates an unusual uneasiness in my chest. “No.”

  “And that’s one reason I like you.” She grabs one of the coffee mugs with a small smile and offers it to me. “And one reason we shouldn’t.”

  I adjust the warm cup in my grip. “We don’t have to talk about those things if you don’t want. We can talk about other things. Things people never read about online or on their media feed. Things….Things you’d only wanna tell a stranger you never plan to see again.”

  London lifts her mug to her mouth. “You don’t ever wanna see me again?”

  I wanna see her every fucking day, but I know that’s illogical, improbable, and most likely impossible. Or at least I think it’s impossible. From what I gathered, she doesn’t even live in this city. Maybe not even the state. The chances of us crossing paths again are slim and as much as I loathe that knowledge, I am not above using it to my advantage. Normally, I would suggest we get dressed, talk at a restaurant with our clothes on, and proceed to discuss the idea of continuing something. That line of thought doesn’t seem to exist with her. It’s odd. It’s refreshing.

  She sweetly hums, “It’s okay if the answer is no, Oliver. Sex doesn’t have to turn into a lifelong commitment.”

  Yet I want it too.

  “Is it okay if the answer is yes?”

  A smile threatens her lips. “Does it feel good when the answer is yes?”

  “Feels incredible.”

  London smiles wider and the entire world appears to make more sense than ever before. “Alright, Hot Stuff, what do you wanna know? And if at all possible can we skip most of the boring biography questions? They always make my face wrinkle.”

  The continuously used nickname grabs a light chuckle. “Fine. Let’s start with you calling me Hot Stuff.”

  “What about it?”

  “Why that?”

  Her grin expands and every fiber inside of me lights up. “Because you are.”

  I can feel warmth trying to radiate from my face again.

  “And because I like the way it makes your face turn red.”

  “I’m not red.”

  “You are.”

  I try to hide my toasting face behind the cup of coffee. After a sip I ask, “Do you always drink cappuccinos?”

  “No,” she casually replies. “I am definitely more of a mood based soul. I do whatever feels right for the moment. Cappuccinos are a must after amazing sex.”

  Pride appears in my expr
ession.