“What are you …” she moans. In. “doing to me …” Out. “I can’t get enough of you …” In. “And Carl’s waiting …” Out.
“He can wait. I’m having my breakfast.”
Letting go of her hands, I prop myself up on my forearms and continue to thrust, sinking deeper each time and pulling out farther. My arms are shaking and her body is trembling underneath me. My vision blurs. Her whimpers get more desperate. The pace is hard and fast now. Demanding. Urgent. And only release will soothe the fever spreading in our bodies.
I stop moving, my entire frame shaking with the painful need to release. My cock still buried inside her, I prolong the torture and withhold our pleasure. She circles her hips desperately, seeking her own release.
“Ronan … I can’t take it anymore. I need to …”
“Rub your clit, Rachel. Feel me inside your cunt.”
Looking down to where we’re connected as one, I see her touching herself, touching my cock covered in her—glistening with her need. I groan. Fucking losing it, I begin to pound into her again and again, pumping deeper and deeper, harder and harder. I hear the headboard slam against the wall, the mirror hung above the bed rattles angrily, and the bedsprings squeak loudly as her moans get louder and louder in my ear with each thrust.
“No more,” she pleads, she begs. Her voice hoarse.
“Yes, more. And more. And more.”
And I go harder and harder. The walls of her pussy begin to flutter around me. I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her cries as I take us both over the edge, coming inside her.
Rachel and I watch Carl go over some of my photographs in the living room. We’re standing in my small kitchen, waiting for him to decide my future. It’s funny how life works sometimes. Just a couple of weeks ago, I thought that I had hit rock bottom. My life seemed to be in shambles. I had a dead-end job and a broken heart. Then I met Rachel, and now Carl Brunswick is in my apartment, sizing up my work.
Rachel bumps my shoulder with hers. “What are you thinking about? You’re quiet.”
I meet her gaze and grin. “Breakfast.”
She smiles. Lost in memories from this morning, we don’t hear Carl walk toward us until he’s standing two feet away from us. “Ronan, my boy, Rachel wasn’t wrong. You are very talented.” He glances in Rachel’s direction. “Are you all right, honey? You seem flushed.”
“I-ah-it’s just very warm in here. I’ll be fine. Excuse me.” Her eyes a soft, dazed blue. “I need to use the restroom.” She starts heading there but stops after taking a few steps, realizing that she’s not supposed to know where it is. “Ronan, is it this way?”
“Let me show you.” I look at Carl who’s smiling knowingly at us. “Excuse me.”
I follow her and once we’re out of Carl’s sight, I push Rachel up against the wall, my bulge cradled in that soft, warm spot between her legs. I cup her ass possessively, caressing the roundness and lowering my head to hers. “Stop blushing or I’m going to have to take you again.”
“No … Carl is …” She leans her head to the side, offering herself to me, and closes her eyes.
“I don’t give a shit.”
She laughs throatily. “Haven’t you had enough? I can barely walk.”
“No, Rachel.” I press her lower body into mine, imprinting the outline of my cock on her fancy skirt, showering kisses on her neck, my lips grazing pearls, and the swell of her breasts rising above her shirt. Grinning, I say, “Not by a long shot.”
“Ronan, please. Be serious.” She swallows and grabs the back of my head, pulling me closer to her. Her words deny but her body eagerly welcomes me.