Once I’ve come down from my orgasm, he pulls his mouth away and smiles down at me. Stilling his hips, he pulls my legs over his forearms and then over his shoulders as he mutters in a sexy, deep tone, “I’m not done with you yet.”
Nearly folding me in half, he picks up the intensity of his thrusts, pounding so hard, it has my body lighting up with pleasure again.
“Oh, my God, Beau,” I shriek.
He freezes. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asks.
I grab his hips and urge him to move again. “No, no. Keep going. Harder.”
I can honestly say I’ve never been fucked this hard, and it’s not really something I thought I’d like. But as he nearly drives my body into the couch with force, his already large shaft reaching parts of my body I didn’t even know existed, I can now say with confidence, this is definitely my style.
I don’t know if my body is climaxing again or if it never truly stopped, but all I do know is sex has never felt like this before. I grab onto his arms, my nails digging into his skin as my body pulses with pleasure again. His eyes are glued to my face as I lose myself to the torrent.
“Can I come?” he cries out.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I reply.
Two more thrusts and he stills, trembling with his orgasm. His low carnal moan in my ear is decadent, and I commit the sound to memory.
Once we’ve both stilled and relaxed together on the couch, he rests his head against my chest, and I run my fingers through his hair. It’s so intimate and unexpected, but I realize in this moment, that everything I’ve been trying to avoid has already happened.
I’m falling for my friend’s son. And it didn’t happen slowly. We collided like two stars moving in the same direction for longer than we knew. There was no changing course or avoiding it. I didn’t mean for it to happen. But there’s no going back now.
Rule #23: It’s good to switch it up from time to time.
Beau
It’s some time past midnight and still raining outside. Normally, I’d be home by now, but I can’t seem to get off this couch.
I’m facing Maggie, who’s scrolling through her phone in nothing but her underwear, while I’m busying my hands with a sketch on my tablet. It’s of her, and all the perfect parts of her stretched out before me.
I hate how hard she is on herself. When she’s in her Domme mode, she doesn’t give a shit and parades herself around proudly—as she should. But I can’t stand how easily she slips back into this mindset, where it almost feels like she hates herself. She won’t let herself feel pleasure and I can’t touch her without her flinching and tensing.
I don’t want to be the only voice in her head that tells her she’s beautiful.
“What are you doing?” she asks, looking over at my tablet. I hold it out for her to see. It’s not great. I’m no artist, but I am pretty proud of how well I captured the little crease of her hips and the shape of her tits. Every perfect part of her.
“I’m keeping this for later,” I reply with a wink before she grabs it out of my hands.
“Beau…” She’s staring down at the messy sketch with a soft expression.
“Do you like it?”
Her lips are slightly parted as I spot the glint of moisture in her eyes, reflected by the light of the tablet in her hands. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t see that and start beating herself up again.
She swallows before whispering, “This is beautiful.”
“Yeah…well, it’s you.”
Her head turns in my direction, and I expect her reaction to be warm. Instead, she frowns and looks away, clearly bothered by something.