“Awesome.”
She laughed, feeling tipsy now. Like the orgasm had been a shot of something strong, leaving a warm buzz in her muscles and her head. Even as a very young, deeply religious girl, she’d had a hard time believing God had made her body capable of feeling this good, only to proclaim it a sin. “I just need a minute.” A minute for the burn of the shame to mellow, and a minute for her clit to recover enough for Casey to continue.
But for now . . . “Here.” She reached between them, and Casey scooted up, straddling her thighs so she could clasp him. He groaned as her fingers closed around him, his hips jerking. She pumped him slowly in her fist.
“Fuck, that feels good. Little tighter.”
She gave him that, trying to ignore an ugly pang as her brain fixated on that word once again. It didn’t warrant dwelling on. She turned her focus to this moment, to watching his excitement mount.
“Could you . . .” He trailed off, looking lost to the pleasure.
“Anything,” she prompted.
“Spit in your hand,” he said. “I want to imagine it.”
Imagine us actually having sex, she thought as she wet her palm. She slicked it along his shaft, then again. The rubbing became gliding, and she didn’t know how anything could ever feel even half as intimate as this.
He put his hand over hers, speeding her touch. Showed her what he liked, curling her fingers around him just under his crown, working him in tight, short pulls. “Like that. Exactly like that.”
She shivered at those words, excited all over again.
“Feels fucking amazing, honey. Don’t stop.”
“I could use my mouth . . .”
“No, no. Just like this. I’m so close.”
“Good.”
“Say my name,” he murmured, eyes shut.
“Casey.”
“Yeah.”
She drew him down by the shoulder, said it again, and again, whispered it against his neck and kissed him there. She bet he was noisy in bed, normally—right now it seemed it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut. Every grunt and groan came out muffled and wild, a barrage of moans and hisses.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m gonna come. Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.”
“Say my name.”
She raked his earlobe softly with her teeth, then said it, right there.
“Fuck.”
His hips were bucking into her grip. He was there. She tugged her top up to her bust, held him against her belly as he came—a long, warm, body-wringing release. She could feel his cock throbbing in her grip, then softening, spent. He was panting like he’d just fled a burning building, pulse thumping a million miles a minute against her palm.
“Jesus.”
She smiled. “Good?”
“Fucking unbelievable.”
He took a long moment to come down, then moved to the side, seeming to scout for something to tidy her with.
“My towel,” she said, and pointed to where it hung on the doorknob. She admired his naked back and butt and legs as he crossed the room, and hid a smile when he returned, holding the towel in front of him, wary eyes on the crib.
Abilene cleaned herself up and gratefully pulled her shirt back over her belly. Once Casey was under the covers, he urged her to face him, both on their sides.
“Hi,” he whispered, smiling.
“Hi, yourself.”
“You okay?”
Now, there was an understatement. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know I could still do that. Get there.” And so easily. Orgasms had never come easy to Abilene. She’d had sex well before she’d ever attempted to touch herself, and could never bring herself to give a man instructions. Casey, though . . . He hadn’t needed any, but she also bet he’d take them, and eagerly. She could imagine finding the nerve to do that—to tell him faster, or slower, or harder, or deeper. Could imagine him taking the orders with pure excitement in his blue eyes.
“Well,” he said, smiling, “you did. You got there.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Been a long time since I got to do that for a woman,” he countered.