She shakes her head and licks her lips. “‘Pretty’ is good. I want this pretty cock inside me. I want this hot, hard, fantastic, pretty cock inside me. Does that work for you?”
My dick twitches against her hand, answering for me.
“Seems your dick agrees, Wilbur.”
“‘Pretty’ works, it turns out. Hell, you can even call me cute if it means you’re coming on my cock.” I slide the condom on as she wriggles out of her knickers. “I’ve missed this sight. You, hot, wet, and bothered.”
“Aching. Don’t forget aching.”
“Let me ease it for you,” I tell her, sliding my fingers between her legs. My head falls back, and I groan my appreciation for all this fantastic slippery wetness. “Look at you. So fucking turned on. So aroused.”
“Told you I was.”
“I feel so awful that you were walking around all night like this,” I say, teasing her, stroking her, feeling her rub against my fingers.
“So awful you’ll get your cock inside me now?”
“Sure. That awful.”
She positions herself over me and sinks down. This must be what a Beatles concert was like—magnificent. All my synapses fire at once and nearly fry. Because this is sensational. Pleasure ricochets through my every cell, runs over every bit of my skin.
She gasps, and I groan, and then we fuck.
There is no prelude. No moment to adjust or slow down. This is pure pent-up screwing. Desperate and determined, she rises up and slides down, using my hard-on for her pleasure, finding just the right speed, just the right friction. I grip her ass tighter, squeezing the firm flesh as she rides me.
Her hands curl over my shoulders, digging in. Her jaw tightens, and she lets her head fall in the crook of my neck.
“I have to tell you something.” Her voice is filthy and seductive.
“Tell me. Tell me as you ride my cock.”
“I thought about you naked all night too.”
“Did it drive you crazy? Because I’ve wanted to fuck you so badly tonight, I thought I’d go insane.” I punch up my hips, thrusting deeper to prove my point.
“I’m already there.”
“Good, now go crazy on me, my naughty minx, because I know how you like it. I know you want to fuck hard and be fucked even harder.”
She likes it hard, she likes it rough, and she likes it fast and frenzied. So I give it to her that way, fucking her from beneath, thrusting up into her, bringing her down hard on my cock. Threading my hand into her hair, I tug her head back, and the sound she makes is carnal and so fucking passionate. It sends shock waves of white-hot desire through me.
My breath comes faster. Her hips move at a wild pace. We are raw nerve endings, lust, and crackling electricity. She grips me tighter, her moans stuttering with her ragged breath.
Her mouth falls open, and she lets out the longest, most delicious moan as she starts to lose control. “Yes, like that, just like that.”
I slide a hand between her legs, where she wants me most. And she detonates. She cries out, loud and tortured and exquisitely erotic, as she comes undone on me.
And that’s all I need. Her pleasure, her noises, her desire—they flip the switch in me. Pleasure barrels down my spine like a tsunami careening toward the shore, washing away everything—common sense, loyalty, goals.
None of that matters as I give in to the utter oblivion of release in this woman.
This woman I want again and again.
Hell, she can even call me Wilbur out of bed if I can just have her one more time.
But when she opens her eyes and sighs deeply, contentedly, it’s not my name she says.
It’s someone else’s.
26
The music comes from within her purse.
It sounds like a cartoon’s about to start, as the opening music for Looney Tunes blares loudly.
“Darren.” She snaps to attention, slides off me, scoots next to me, and grapples for her purse. “That’s the investor.” Furiously, she rips the zipper open, snags her phone, and slams it to her ear. “Hi, Darren, how are you?”
She rearranges her voice as if she’s stripped the post-coital glow off it with paint thinner. It’s impressive the way she can go from minx to mogul in seconds flat.
There’s a pause as he chats, then she answers.
“Yes, it’s great. I’ve been running through some options, testing various concepts.”
Another beat.
“Definitely. Sure. Yeah. I can check out that place.” She scrambles for a pen in her purse, and I spot a box of tissues on the console. I reach for one, remove the condom, and put it in the rubbish bag hidden on the side of the door. A good limo driver truly thinks of everything. Maybe I’ll even mention that in my next blog: be sure to tip handsomely any driver who accommodates discreet disposal of prophylactics.
Truly cradles the phone against her head as she tugs down her dress. “Absolutely. When are you leaving? Sure, let’s get it done sooner.”
