My orgasm hits me hard, bursting behind my vision and sweeping through me. I’m gasping words like please and yes and Rory and oh god while he watches me unravel on his knee, shaking and shattering and sobbing at how fucking incredible the waves of pleasure feel. He doesn’t let up from my G-spot, doesn’t stop his fingers from delving in and out as I clamp around them, and even while blood is whooshing in my ears and my face is in his shoulder, I can hear how wet I am as he fills me again and again.
When I slump against him, catching my breath, his mouth is on my temple, on the shell of my ear, my neck, my cheek. I tip my face up to him, feeling drunk and drained in the best way, and he smiles against my lips.
“Good job me,” he says, and I laugh silently.
“So cocky.”
“Mhm.”
He lifts his hand and sucks his fingers off, and another wave of heat ripples through me as he lets out a low groan. Against my hip, his cock pulses.
God, that shouldn’t be so hot, but it is, seeing him love my taste like that.
“What’s your favorite position, Rory?” I whisper, running my lips down his neck. More than anything, I want to see him lose it. My hand comes to his cock and a hoarse groan rumbles out of him when I stroke his length over his pants.
“Whichever one makes you come the hardest.”
“Good answer.”
Here we fucking go. I adjust on his lap, straddling him, giving him a coy, teasing smile as I push his shoulders back so he’s lying down. His cock presses between my legs, straining against his pants, and I smile at the tortured expression on Rory’s handsome face.
“But we’re not doing that tonight,” he adds, dragging in a deep breath, gaze dropping to my chest and then the damp fabric between my legs.
I lean down, running my mouth over his chest in soft kisses, holding his gaze. “I want to.” Against his erection, I grind down, already feeling the stirring ache again.
There’s something behind his eyes, something he’s holding back from me. Something vulnerable he doesn’t want to say as his throat works.
“What’s the rush?”
I pause. It’s the second time I’ve offered him sex and he’s turned it down. I’d feel rejected if it weren’t for the way he looks like he’s seconds from losing control. The stiff length pressing against my pussy helps, too.
He wants this, so why’s he holding back? I’m not sure how this fits with the Rory’s just interested in a chase narrative I’ve been chanting to myself.
Guys don’t do this. This doesn’t make sense.
His hands come to my hips, his mouth lifts into a sweet smile, and dread settles in my stomach.
Oh god. He’s dragging this out because I told him that I fuck a guy once and never again.
I can’t think about what this means on his end. I can’t think about what he wants. It’s going to give me ideas.
Maybe this is a good thing, not sleeping together. Rory’s so much more than I expected and if I have sex with him, I might fall in love with him, and that can’t happen. I can already feel it starting—this urge to be the loving, encouraging person he needs in his life.
It would be so bad if I fell in love with Rory Miller. It would break me into a million pieces.
He deserves good things, though, and an insistent desire to please him and make him feel good loops through me, so I trail my fingers down his chest and flat stomach, brushing along the V cut into his hips, closer and closer to his waistband as his eyelids droop.
“What, then?” I ask softly, dipping down to kiss his throat. “What do you need?”
His exhale is ragged, and his throat works again.
“What did you think about while you were away?”
His eyes close, and when they open, his gaze sears me. “You lying on the edge of the bed and me fucking your throat.”
The noise that slips out of me is pure want. “So take what you want, Rory.”
CHAPTER 49
RORY
“Fucking finally,” Hazel says when I pull my pants and boxers down and my cock springs free, hard as fuck and beading with pre-cum.
Every muscle in my body is tight with anticipation. She told me to take what I want, and the urge to fuck her has my cock so hard it hurts. My balls ache with need as I grapple for a reason why we shouldn’t do what we both want.
Her hand wraps around my length, and I stop thinking.
“Your cock is gorgeous,” she whispers, kneeling on the bed and stroking me, and a groan rumbles out of my chest.
“Yeah?” My hands are in my hair, tugging. Hearing my sharp-tongued Hazel lavish my dick with praise makes my scalp tingle.