I slide right in and then grip her hips, feeling the vibration of the massager against my balls as I thrust into her.
Fucking amazing.
This won’t take long at all, not when her pussy is already convulsing around my cock.
“Harder,” she breathes out.
So, I drive into her harder, fuck her the way I know she likes it.
“Yes, Pike. You’re so good. You make me come so hard.” She adjusts the vibrator and I feel it more as she moans louder. “Oh God, I’m right there.”
“Me too,” I grind out as my legs grow stiff and I swell inside her. “Fuck, babe. I’m coming.”
I explode in her just as she calls out my name and thrusts her hips back against me. Together, we ride out our quick fuck until we’re both drained.
I smooth my hand over her backside and give it a quick slap, causing her to convulse one more time over my cock.
“Motherfucker,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Weren’t you the one who told me not to play with fire a while back?”
“Apparently.” I lean forward, press a kiss to her back, and pull out of her warmth . . . unfortunately. I go into the bathroom to clean up, and I’m about to bring her a flannel, but she meets me in the bathroom.
Her hand drags across my back. Her clear, light grey eyes meet mine in the mirror. I look at her reflection, how freshly fucked she looks with her tousled hair and gorgeous, pouty lips.
I grant her some privacy and fix myself up before I strap on my jacket and backpack. I’m about to tell her I’m leaving when she pops out of the bathroom in a silk robe barely closed at the corner of her hip.
She saunters toward me, and my eyes fall to the way the silk cascades over her curves.
When she reaches me, she presses her palm to my chest and stands on her toes, placing a kiss to my mouth. “I was thinking about making dinner for us tonight.”
“Actually make dinner? Or char something?”
She chuckles. “Actually make something.”
“Works for me.”
“Any requests?”
I smooth my hand down to her lower back and pull her close. “Nope, surprise me.”
“Okay.”
I tilt her chin up and press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you later.” I give her one more kiss and then distance myself before I end up being late. “Bye, babe.”
“Bye.” She holds the door open for me and wiggles her fingers at me in farewell.
Life isn’t fair. If I didn’t have kids depending on me to teach them American history, then I would skip work and spend one more day in bed with my girl.
Instead, I jog down the stairs of our apartment building and out to my motorbike. This weekend, we had a conversation about me driving Cora’s car when it starts to snow. I told her I drive in the snow on my bike all the time during the winter months. She didn’t like that at all. The whole “argument” just made me chuckle, because not only was she talking about the future, but she was also showing how much she cared about me. That feeling settles well.
On the ten-minute ride to school, I think about how well the weekend went. How Cora and I seemed to mesh well together—now that she’s let down her guard. And even though we’ve had a lot of sex, we’ve also spent time getting to know each other. And going into the holiday season, I feel like I know her better than ever, and that gives me relief, because my three-month deadline is closing in. The more I can connect with Cora, the easier it’s going to be to take her to England for a real wedding.
When I arrive at school, I park my bike in my usual spot, remove my helmet, and tuck it under my arm as I walk into the school. Thankfully, I’m early, which means when I arrive at my classroom door, I’m greeted by an angry-looking Arlo Turner.
Fuck.
I forgot about him. I was pleasantly surprised that the weekend with Cora wasn’t ruined by interruptions from her brother. I was certain he’d call, text, or at least arrive uninvited. His silence actually surprised me.
Never one to back down, especially from a cardigan-wearing, pompous wanker, I move past him, my shoulder brushing his as I unlock my classroom door.
“Greyson, a word,” he says in that commanding tone that startles students but has zero effect on me.
“Have as many as you want,” I say, pushing through my door, not bothering to hold it open for him.
To my dismay, he follows behind me. Ignoring his blatant attempt to intimidate me, I set my things on my desk and wake up my computer. While my students are working through a pop quiz—I’m that teacher—I enter grades into the system.