We stare at each other, mutual conflict clear in our lack of action. Should Alex be wearing a condom? For damn sure. However, he’s already partway inside me and it feels incredible. This is an example of a lapse in judgment. It seems to be frequent where Alex is concerned.
I clear my throat. “I’m on the pill, and I’ve always been responsible up until now.” Great. Now I’ve admitted what we’re doing is the exact opposite of responsible.
He doesn’t retract the monster cock or give me any more of it. “I should put a condom on.” It’s supposed to be a statement, but his voice rises at the end, turning it into a question. He glances at his pants on the floor. “Fuck. My wallet’s on the kitchen counter.”
His forehead drops to my shoulder. He takes long, slow breaths. I do something else I shouldn’t as I tighten my thighs against his hips. I flex the beave.
“Violet—” It’s a lament. “I should—”
“We could—”
He lifts his head. “Are you sure?”
“Are you?”
I think it’s safe to say neither of us is sure. We’re committed to making this bad decision in the name of feeling good. His answer comes in the form of his hips sinking into mine. Holy hell, am I ever full. Of unfiltered monster cock. I moan like crazy and bury my face against his neck.
At the same time, Alex strings a bunch of words together which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. It sounds like “flumothohshitregoo.”
“What?” I ask as he circles his hips.
Alex presses his lips to my neck, skimming his teeth over my skin. “This is unreal.”
“Mmm. It’s fantastic.”
His face is flushed as he lifts his head to look at me with intense, glassy eyes. A lazy grin turns up the corner of his mouth. “Fantastic isn’t the word. If heaven is anything like this, I wanna stay forever.”
Being compared to heaven seems like quite a compliment. “Thanks. You feel amazing, too.”
He has to readjust his position before he can start with the thrusting. I see now why the bed would’ve been better. All the friction makes my back sweat, and the leather under me has started to squeak. The hardwood floor isn’t an option, unless I want a bruised tailbone. I push on Alex’s chest.
“Should I stop?” His words are choked with disappointment.
I shake my head and continue to push. “Sit up, please.”
Alex doesn’t ask more questions. Instead, he folds back on his knees, bringing me with him so we don’t lose the connection. We maneuver awkwardly—well, I’m awkward, Alex isn’t. There’s some less-than-graceful fumbling on my part. Eventually, we’re both upright, and I straddle his legs. This gives me a fantastic view of everything. We both look down to watch him slide almost all the way out.
“How good does that look?”
I’m not sure he needs an answer, but I’m inclined to give him one. “So good.” Except for the giant purple hickey-bruise I’m pretending Alex put there with his mouth.
He lowers me slowly, filling me again. “I know, eh?”
His eyes are hooded, and he wears a blissful, sexy smile. I hold onto his shoulders, debating whether I want to watch his pretty face or what’s happening from the waist down. He rids me of either option when he buries his face between my boobs on the next upward stroke.
“I can’t believe how good this feels,” he says, his voice slightly muffled.
“I’m pretty sure I can.”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
“Never?”
“Not once.”
“Wow. This must feel really good, then.”
“I can’t describe—” He kisses one of my nipples. “Have you?”
“What?” He hits the spot that makes me see stars and constellations.
“Had sex without a condom?”
He changes things up and starts a very stimulating rocking motion. If he stops asking me questions about my past sexual experiences, I’ll come soon.
How the hell do I answer? Yes, I have, with a previous long-term boyfriend. We dated for a year, and he was my last serious relationship prior to the hockey jerk. No one wants to hear that while they’re doing it. Sex talk should consist primarily of phrases such as: more, fuck me, go harder, right there, please, yes, and I’m coming.
I’m putting an end to the conversational sex and making it moaning sex instead. I respond with one of the preapproved phrases, “It feels unbelievable. Go harder. Please, Alex.” I’m quite genuine, despite how clichéd it sounds.
It has the desired effect. A low rumble comes from deep within his chest and he lifts me up, until I’m almost empty and slams me down. It’s incredible. Spectacular even.
“How’s this, baby? You want faster, too?”
“Uh-huh.”
This new, hard, intense rhythm sends me straight to the abyss. I grab onto his hair, prompting Alex to increase his speed and vigor. Then he has to go and suck on my nipple like the boob-loving hockey-stud-former-player he is. He releases it on the next downward stroke. It’s all I can take. The world turns into a starburst of black and white as I try to shove my face in his neck and stifle my love sounds.