until she moans. I give a single flick against each pert nipple. Her hands slap my shoulders, her eyes wide.
“I—fuck me again, Chet.” Her voice is hoarse, needy.
Then I do something again, breaking every rule I have.
I give her my lips as my answer.
It feels foreign, alien, but I do it anyway. Her soft mouth is as pliable as I'd imagined.
I sip and peck, deepen the kiss until Kandace opens her mouth. Our tongues meet, and it's nothing like I've ever done.
It's so much more.
I hear a noise and realize it's me. I'm making a strange sound.
Contentment.
I don't analyze. I walk her to the other side of the shower, rip my shirt from where it's draped over the top of the shower wall, and lay it on the tile.
I lie on my back, and my eyes seek hers like a missile after a heated target.
“You fuck me, Kandace.”
Her answer is music to my ears.
“Yes, Sin.”
She straddles me, suspended above my prick. It throbs once in acute agony.
Then her heat surrounds me as I fill her.
A strange feeling descends, enveloping me as she rides my cock.
Happiness.
THIRTEEN
Kiki
My hands fall to Chet's thighs as I lean back and rock with him, deeply impaled by his penis.
And what a penis it is.
Helpless little sounds leak out of me. I'm sore, but it doesn't matter. The steam, the hot water, the aching—it's all on the periphery. The moment is Chet and me, and I'm so in the moment.
His fingers knead my hips, urging me faster, as though impatient for my flesh. I brace myself on my heels and push against him as he enters me. The stretching inside me feels like too much.
Then Chet does a little swirl and thrust with his hips, and I come hard. My arms tremble, and I know I won't support my weight.
He seems to sense it, and rises with me in his arms.
Chet turns me against the wall, and my back lands against the cool tiles, his hand behind me and the other cupping my ass. He pounds inside me. Once, twice, and the third time's the charm.
The man is a cum-factory, exploding inside me.
“Kandace,” he groans, still moving
I love the way he says my name. It makes me want to cry. Not because I'm sad, but because I don't want it to end.
He braces against me, the two of us pulsing together. A minute passes, the water still hot at our backs. The hiss of it falling is the only sound other than our slowing heartbeats.
Very gently, as if I'm made of the finest crystal, Chet lowers me.
I look into his face and see raw emotion there. He scoops my soaking hair and puts it behind my back. His face dips, and he kisses me again, as if he'd eat my lips, my mouth... my soul.
“Kandace,” he repeats. “You undo me.”
I laugh, and his face jerks back.
I smile at his mildly insulted expression. “Listen here, bucking bronco.” That gets a smile. “I'm pretty undone myself. As in—mondo tired. You've worn me out.” I run my hands from his shoulders to his heavily muscled biceps and twist my fingers over forearms that are so heavily striated, they look like ropes of flesh. We lace our fingers when I reach his hands.
“And that's saying something.”
Chet chuckles.
We step out of the shower, and I hand him a towel.
“Wait,” he says. He wraps my hair in the towel meant for his body. When I have a turban on top of my head, Chet dries me with another towel.
“I'm serious, Chet, I can't screw anymore.”
He looks up at me, his eyes at half-mast. “Who said anything about screwing?”
Still, the press of the terrycloth is an erotic breath of softness over my body, catching each drop of water as it falls.
Chet reaches my toes, and I squeal when he gets between them.
His grin transforms his face. Easy and free, he looks utterly different.
Unguarded.
“I like this Chet.” My finger touches the tip of his nose.
His expression freezes.
“What Chet?” he asks neutrally.
“This one,” I say softly, touching his arm lightly as he stands.
He doesn't respond, quickly drying himself.
I blush at his flaccid penis.