Free Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) by Lexi Maxxwell Page B

grinding my cunt on his cock, turning in circles, wiggling harshly, stirring myself back-and-forth, as if angry.  
    I pause, not because I want to, but because I’ve barely any breath in my body.  
    I heave, moan, grunt, and finally cum.  
    I cry out, scream, and yell for Cooper to finish.
    He pulls me from the table, bends me back so I’m flat to the wood with my feet on the floor, my ass against him.
    It’s beautiful, how our moans lock and tumble as one, each note growing louder through the thunder of our final minute. Cooper grunts, holding his cum in his cock, stretching pleasure as I heave and shove my body against him. Cooper holds me down, groaning, like a man trying to wrestle a mountain.
    I feel his ironing board body behind me. He shudders, and erupts inside me.  
    Cum is everywhere. I love it: something the girls do not have.  
    They can never explode in my mouth, not like Cooper has exploded behind me. Nor can I swallow them the same way. Men fit in my hollow, and make me one with another the way nature designed me.  
    Cooper keeps stirring his flagging dick inside my trembling hole. Then he pulls out, and I’m emptied. Cum spills down my legs, dripping onto the tile, from my pussy. I feel uncorked.  
    Nothing like Richard, in a good way. I’ll want more before long and won’t want to wait. I imagine Cooper’s long, tan cock covered in my cream and his cum. I want to look. He’s standing behind me, spreading my ass cheeks, admiring our mess, like he always used to do.
    I climb from the table and kiss him.  
    “That was fucking perfect,” he says as we part.  
    “So,” I smile. “Wanna talk?”  

Liza Fucking Elway  

    Cooper makes me a meal and reminds me of Richard, though he’s not like Richard at all. They have similar kitchens, both filled with ridiculously priced accoutrements they don’t need to make the simple dishes they do.
    Similarities stop there. Like everything else about Cooper, he’s sloppy compared to Richard. He makes a mess, because someone will clean it. People clean for Richard, too, he still sweeps his eggshells into the trash and wipes the counter with a washcloth before eating.  
    Cooper leaves evidence of his indulged life everywhere, like flecks of skin he can’t help but shed. He left a mess between my legs. Some is still running in between them, the rest has already dried.
    He sets a plate of eggs in front of me. They’re gorgeous: hued in yellows and whites, and every other color with red peppers, green onions, tomatoes, slivers of white garlic, wedges of green avocado, something dark and red — mashed — I think it might be a chipotle.  
    I think at the fork and dip it into the egg. “Wait!” Cooper cries out, wrapping my wrist in his hand. He smiles, gestures to a small bowl of crimson salsa, then drizzles it on my eggs. “A must.”
    I put the eggs in my mouth. Cooper was right: They’re amazing.
    “So,” he says, then adds nothing to his sentence. I wonder if he’s waiting for me, or searching for words.
    I say, “So, what have you been up to since, like, forever?”
    Cooper smiles, but doesn’t answer. “What in the fuck, Liza?” He cracks into laughter. “Where to start? I can’t believe you’re here, or that we did that. It’s unreal. I’m so not prepared.”
    Cooper’s words crumble through his laughter. He’s flushed. Embarrassed. It’s adorable. I’m glad he’s not wearing his shades.
    “Why is it so hard to believe? We used to do it all the time.”  
    “That was a while ago, Liza. A lifetime. I figured it’d be different now.”
    “Oh my God, Cooper. Are you kidding? You’re acting like we’re ancient. We’re not. We’re still practically kids. It wasn’t a long time ago, definitely not a lifetime. You’re so fucking dramatic.”
    “Well, at least you’re not a bitch anymore,” Cooper laughs.
    “I’ve never been a bitch. The only people who really think I’m a bitch are people who don’t know me.”
    He