"Please let me come."
"Shit." I can't hold off, when she says that. She clenches hard around me like a vise, and I swear her * must have been made to fit my cock. "Come for me, sweetheart."
When she comes, it's wild. I have to cover her mouth to mute her, burying myself balls deep inside her as I let go of everything, filling her up. She bites down on my finger, her muscles clenching around my cock again and again. She goes weak and I have to hold her tightly against me for I don't know how long, until I finally open my eyes.
I hadn't even realized they were closed.
My hands are wrapped around the top of her chest, my face buried in her neck. Our breathing is still ragged, and I stand there listening to it and holding her, wondering why the hell I don’t feel the impulse I usually do, the one where every part of me is screaming “run like hell!” to get away from the chick in my bed.
Instead, I’m standing here, not wanting to let go. She moves against me, and I catch a whiff of her scent laced with perfume – something warm that suits her – and it makes me want to stay here.
“Hey,” I say, my arms around her more tightly. I feel like the biggest scum of the earth for fucking her in the middle of the kitchen the way I just did. “Are you okay?”
16
Autumn
“Are you okay?” His breath on my neck sends a shiver up my spine, and I press my ass against him.
Am I okay? The fact that he asks that makes me giggle.
Hell-fucking-yes I’m okay.
I just broke a two-year drought by having the filthiest sex I’ve ever had in my kitchen with a man a decade younger than me.
And he’s asking if I’m okay.
Damn it, I’m probably not okay at all. I’m out of my mind.
He slips out of me, his back turned as he disposes of the condom. I feel the sudden need to look him in the eye, to know whether he really just wants to get the hell out of my house, but he speaks with his back still turned to me.
“You’re laughing,” he says, stating the obvious.
“You’re the one who asked if I was okay.” I cross my arms over my breasts, the evening air cold.
Luke walks to me, sliding his arms around me, looking at me with an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “And?” he asks. “There’s something funny about that?”
“I’m very okay,” I assure him, laughing. I’m giddy, drunk with the afterglow of orgasm and sex and doing something wild and out of character. Okay isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it.
Fucking spectacular might be a more appropriate term.
“You’re thinking about something,” Luke says, pulling me against him. The heat from his naked body radiates against mine, and I shiver, but it’s definitely not because of the cold.
“I’m thinking about the fact that we’re standing in my kitchen naked.”
“This isn’t usually how you stand in your kitchen?” he asks playfully, sliding his hand over my ass cheek. “That’s a shame. You definitely have the body for it.”
“Yeah, right.” Now that my lust for him no longer totally clouds my brain, overriding my ability to think rationally and coherently, I’m acutely aware that I’m standing here, pressed up against a guy who’s basically the epitome of physical perfection. And I’m completely self-conscious.
"Please don't tell me you think you're not hot," he says.
I laugh nervously, trying to push myself away from him, but he holds me closer. "Uh, yeah, I’m not delusional,” I say. “I’ve had a kid.”
"Yeah, I seem to recall that fact," he says.
“I have a mom body,” I say, pushing him back as I gather my clothes from the floor and slip my shirt back on. Meanwhile, Luke just stands there, stark naked, watching as I reach for my jeans.
"Leave those off," Luke says, his voice thick.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard what I said. Don't put any more clothes on."
"I'm not staying naked," I protest. "Don't you want to get dressed?"
He raises one eyebrow. "Is that a legitimate question?" he asks, with a laugh. "Because, uh, the answer is obviously fuck no, I don't want to get dressed."
The way he says it, like it’s self-evident, takes me by surprise and I stare at him. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh," he says, crossing the space between us and reaching underneath my chin to tilt my head up to look at him. "Did you really think you were getting rid of me that easily?"
"I didn’t –“ The truth is, I hadn't thought about him staying. I hadn’t pegged him as the kind of guy who’d be interested in staying. I hadn’t thought through much of this at all.
“You know,” he says, cupping my jaw in his hand and running his thumb over my bottom lip, “that’s the thing about younger men…”
My lips part, almost of their own accord, and I resist the urge to take his thumb in my mouth, the same way I took his cock in my mouth earlier. "What's that?"