Her hips rise up to meet me and I lose track of time. All that exists is grinding and gasping, kisses and whispers, pounding and pulsing. Harder and deeper and more. Pleasure beyond anything I’ve known.
Electric heat scorches up my spine. I feel Chelsea’s muscles throbbing around me, squeezing as she cries out beneath me. And when I start to come, the only word in my mind . . . is her name.
“Chelsea . . . Chelsea . . .”
I picture it, how I’m jerking, pulsing deep inside of her—filling her. And the image makes me come that much harder.
Afterward, the sharp pleasure eventually wanes, smoothes out, and settles into a pleasant hum through my limbs. Awareness returns and I lift my head from the crook of Chelsea’s neck—my new favorite spot—to see her smiling drowsily up at me.
And all I can do is smile back.
I run my hand through her damp hair, feel the slick sweat on our bodies that seals us together, as I pull out of her with a grunt, then shift to the side, dragging her against me. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her forehead with more tenderness than I ever knew I was capable of.
15
I can’t get enough of Chelsea’s skin. It’s bordering on obsession. I can’t stop touching it, stroking the rough pads of my fingertips up her arm, across her creamy shoulder, down the perfect, pale line of her spine. It glistens like an opal under the glimmer of moonlight coming in from the bedroom window. My lips follow my fingers, soft brushes—she feels like velvet against my mouth, like the deepest cleft of a rose petal.
And she’s not exactly idle either. Her tongue swirls around my nipple, she nips at my shoulder, her fingers play with the peppering of hair on my chest . . . and lower. She likes the feel of my stubble against her breast and I love the sensation of her auburn hair sliding across my stomach. For the next hour, it’s a silent exploration. An erotic discovery—what tickles, what turns us on, makes me groan, makes her scream.
And then we’re at it again. This time I’m on the bed, legs stretched out straight, leaning back on my elbows, watching with rapt attention as Chelsea rides my cock with total abandon. Her knees fall on either side of my waist; her pelvis rocks forward and back with the rhythm of an exotic dancer. The moonlight glowing in the window behind her casts her features in shadow, but her silhouette is nothing short of magnificent. Her hair wild, head thrown back, tits bouncing, lips parted and gasping.
I could stay just like this . . . I could watch her forever.
“Oh god . . . oh god . . . ,” she pants, hips moving faster.
I curse, trying so hard not to thrust. Because I’m so deep—buried from base to tip in snug, hot cunt—and it feels incredible. I don’t want it to end yet.
I cup her breasts, rolling both nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Pinching until she moans loud and long. It makes her hips sway harder, grinding down on me now in tight circles. And her moan sounded so sweet, I have to take her nipple in my mouth. Dragging my tongue around the velvet bud, flicking and teasing. Chelsea’s hands grip my hair, holding me there, as I suction with my lips, then move up and around the soft mounds, sucking at the flesh, leaving a scattering of pink abrasions she’ll feel tomorrow.
Her hands flatten on my shoulder blades, keeping me close.
“Jake . . . ,” she keens, just to say my name, I think.
“That’s it, Chelsea.” My voice is both reassuring and demanding. An order and a prayer. And I can actually feel her get wetter, tighter around me. Fucking A—nothing has ever felt this good. “Come on, baby. Ride me, make yourself come. You’re so close, aren’t you?”
She whimpers and nods, her head jerking.
“Let me feel it. It’s gonna feel so good. Get there, Chelsea.”
And I can’t not go with her.
I grab her hips in both hands and push up into her, my pelvis rubbing right against the spot she needs. Her hips push down while I thrust. And with my mouth open, teeth pressing into the skin of her collarbone, she stiffens and comes with the sexiest moan that seems to go on forever.
I let go with a long, broken groan.
For several seconds neither of us move. We’re a perfect tangled mess of sweaty skin, harsh breaths, and languid limbs. My orgasm was so strong, I’m still twitching inside her as she leans forward, pushing me onto my back.
Chelsea lays her head over my heart, laughing against my chest, her soft hair falling around my neck.
And I blink at the ceiling, seeing stars. “Holy fuck.”
Her back shudders with a giggle. “It was kind of a religious experience, wasn’t it?” I feel her lips on my skin, worshipping the inked flesh. “Tell me about your tattoos.” She kisses the one just below my collarbone—a string of numbers and letters.
I run my hand down her hair. “That’s the docket number from my case with the Judge.”