His breath scalded my ear as I engulfed him. He sucked the side of my neck hard enough to leave a mark, then crooked his chin over my shoulder to watch the image of our union.
His hands caressed my thighs, my belly, then centred on my mons. He pulled my labia back to expose the disappearance of his root into my body. The blade of my clit stood out sharply between his fingers and the pink convolutions of my sex glistened with secretions, visibly quivering as my body tried to pull him deeper. He exhaled softly and traced my stretched inner lips with one finger. His scrotum darkened.
'If I don't get deeper, I'll die,' he said.
He jerked his legs to the edges of the chair, widening my thighs in the process. I arched my spine. His cock slid a half-inch further. We both convulsed with a sharp throb of lust.
'Now,’ he whispered, thrusting his second arm under my borrowed sweater. 'Move with me, sweetheart.'
He banded his arm beneath my breasts and lifted me, grunting with effort and longing before easing me back. I gripped both chair arms to help him, pushing up and sinking down. We found our rhythm and hastened it, all the while watching in the mirror the age-old in and out, the hungry tensing of our thighs, the ecstatic curling of our toes.
His angle of entry felt incredible. Every stroke compressed some sweet spot I hadn't known I had. I began to groan with pleasure, which made him shiver and swell. His arm tightened on my ribs. Almost before I knew it, he bore my full weight.
'Oh, man, I'm close,’ he said. I couldn't believe how strong he was. Every motion was perfectly controlled and intense. He hit that sweet spot with the sleek, hot hammer of his cock until all that kept me from shattering was force of will.
I cried out, feeling him stretch inside me, feeling his thighs go rigid beneath my legs.
'Now,’ he groaned, shoving upward with all his might. 'Come, baby, please.' But I was already there.
We climaxed as one, a rich explosion of sensation. Every time he jerked, darts of fierce, sweet pleasure showered me from his cock, and melted, and flowed like maple syrup through my veins. My neck sagged, my limbs went limp, and still he came. Finally, nothing remained but aftershocks, tiny spasms of sweetness like a ripe burst of fruit.
'Ah,' he sighed, long and low. He shifted me sideways and cradled me. 'Now that was good.'
I kissed his cheek. His self-congratulatory smile had to be the most adorable expression I'd ever seen. How could I not love him? Without warning, tears burnt my eyes.
'Don't worry, Katycat.' He hugged my shoulders. 'I know you'll say the words when you're ready.'
If he knew that, he knew a hell of a lot more than I did.
Chapter Eight
With a Song in his Heart
Sean and I took to wandering around the house humming Joe's favourite melodies. Sean mangled them worse than I did, but Joe was too flattered to care.
'You like that one?' he'd say, shyly pleased. 'You don't think it's too obvious?'
'No, no,' we'd assure him. 'It's just obvious enough.'
Then he'd attack whichever songbird was closest, backing us into the nearest wall for a big, wet kiss. Needless to say, we learned to listen carefully to his tunes.
One Sunday, contrary to habit, Joe tacked twenty minutes' worth of carpet in complete silence. Thanks to Sean's obsessive-compulsive leadership, our exercise room was almost done. The panelling was up, and the new ceiling treatment. We had a turn-of-the-century, wall-length mirror complete with gilded frame and barre. The barre was intended for my use, in spite of the fact that I could barely spell plie. In the opposite corner, Sean had constructed an 'L' of seating and storage space. Non-domestic that I was, I hired a seamstress to upholster its cushions in muted rose and moss. All that remained was to finish the carpet, install the skirting board - which I was sanding to fit - and rescue Sean's weight-lifting gear from his parents' basement. I knew he was looking forward to that. He spoke of his bodybuilding equipment with a warmth most men reserved for their first car.
'No more gym fees,’ he'd crow. 'You have no idea the return I could be getting on that money.'
I didn't bother to ask. Our soon-to-be graduate could wax poetic on his first share purchase, too. I'm not certain he realised I knew how to invest my own money. His advice wasn't bad, mind you, and he meant well -just as he did when he dropped to his knees behind Joe, gripped his neck muscles and squeezed.
'Yo, buddy. You tired today?'
Joe's head swung around in surprise. 'What do you mean?'
'You weren't singing. Did we wear you out last night?'
'I'm fine.' He shook Sean off and returned to tacking the thick maroon carpet. 'I'm saving my voice.'
'Saving it for what?' I asked.
A blush stained the back of his neck. 'I've been composing some songs for a student musical. I thought I'd audition.'
Sean set down the glue gun. 'What musical?'
Joe mumbled something I couldn't make out from my post at the sanding bench. But Sean could hear. He sat back on his heels and smacked his forehead. 'Captain Blood? Don't tell me it's that vampire-pirate thing everyone has been talking about.'