Too Hard to Handle

That was the last rational thought she had because he leaned forward, coming down on his elbows and sealing their lips in a hot kiss. The rhythmic invasion of his tongue matched the rhythmic invasion of his body. Sure. Steady. Over and over they joined. And the build was slow. Deliberate.

The friction of his coarse chest hairs against the buds of her breasts was delicious. The way his pubic bone ground into her clitoris at the end of every thrust was divine. She hooked her heels above his ass to increase the pressure, to encourage him faster. He obliged her, pumping his hips harder, upping the pace until her body was one big jumble of erotic pleasure. Each nerve ending was alive and screaming for more, more, so much more!

The skin of his back was hot and slick with sweat. The muscles beside his spine hard and flexing, creating a deep groove of his backbone. The smell of toothpaste and sex and Dan’s clean, electric scent filled her nose, and she was so completely overcome with pleasure, with joy, she thought she may burst with it. Just boom! Penni-shaped confetti raining down all around the room. And then she started to. Burst, that is.

Little tendrils of ecstasy wrapped around her womanhood, shimmering through the place where they were connected, twanging against her swollen clitoris, and moving up into her belly, her breasts. She squeezed herself around his plundering shaft, trying to increase the pressure, the pleasure. She was teetering on the brink, unable to topple over. It was delicious. Maddening.

“Don’t force it,” Dan said, breaking the sweet suction of their lips. He framed her face in his hands, his eyes darkened by passion as his hips continued to thrust. Hard and steady. Deep and penetrating. “It’ll come. Just ride it out, babe. Just ride it on out.”

“Dan…” she said breathlessly, staring up into his handsome, fierce face. Sweat beaded on his brow, dampening the tendrils of blond hair there, turning them brown. He’s gorgeous. And thick. She would be sore for days to come. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care if she had to be carted out in a wheelchair. She just wanted it to go on and on, to keep him inside, moving, rubbing, loving her. Forever. The thought was enough to send the pleasure ratcheting higher, tighter. It began to feel as if there was a spring at her core, coiling and coiling. The tension building and building.

“Oh God!” she screamed when, like a flash, another orgasm hit her. This time it was like a locomotive. Hard. Heavy. Unstoppable. She felt it everywhere, clamping her womb like a vise, tightening her nipples until she cried out with the beautiful, painful pleasure of it all. Over and over it hammered her. As if she were standing on railroad tracks, taking blow after blow from each successive train car.

“Look at me!” Dan roared. “Open your eyes!”

She would have thought herself incoherent, but she managed to understand his command and obeyed. His green eyes were full of fire, full of satisfaction, full of triumph as she continued to shatter around him, her body squeezing his, milking his. He thrust deep one last time, churning his hips in a little circle to abrade the screaming bundle of nerves at the top of her sex and draw out her orgasm. Which, let’s be honest, already felt never ending. Just boom! Boom! Boom! Blast after blast of brilliant, incandescent rapture. Until she was blind with it. Deaf with it. Numb with it.

She had no idea how long she remained that way, riding out the pleasure just as he’d instructed her to do. Letting it crash into her over and over. Again and again. But eventually, the blows turned to ripples, the painful contractions turned to flutters, and her eyesight returned. She saw him smiling down at her with the look of a man who’d just conquered the world. If she’d had a breath left in her, she would have laughed at his blatant expression of victory. Her hearing returned next, and his deep, labored breaths filled her ears along with the sound of a contented growl issuing from the back of his throat. And finally, finally, her body came back to her. She could once again feel the rasp of his chest hair against her nipples, feel the full girth of him stretching her walls to—

Wait a minute. What the hey? “You didn’t come.” She frowned.

“Not this time,” he said, still grinning. “Not yet anyway.”

“Can you come again?” she asked, squeezing her inner muscles around him. His shaft throbbed in response to the caress and a muscle ticked in his beard-stubbled jaw.

“Yes,” he admitted, his eyes molten with unquenched desire. “If you think you can handle more.”

“You bet your ass,” she told him. But when he slowly thrust, one liquid in-and-out, she realized just how sore she really was. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she grinned at him and said, “But I think I have a better idea…”

* * *

Julie Ann Walker's books