Do Me Right. Cindi Myers
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She arched toward him until his mouth covered her and his tongue began to stroke. She clutched at the sheets, the need inside her coiling even tighter. She smiled, knowing the rush she craved wasn’t far away.
She forgot everything then—the blindfold and the bed and the man. All her senses zeroed in on her own skin and bones and the delicious heat building in waves within her, washing over and through her.
She held nothing back, and when she came, she screamed. The sound echoed around them, a shout of triumph and release and pure joy. As it faded away, she became aware of his labored breathing and the steady pounding of her heart. She kept her eyes shut tight, unwilling to leave this dreamlike state where everything seemed so perfect.
At that instant, she forgave Kyle the flowers and the romance and everything that hinted at him trying to make her into something she was not. She forgave him and welcomed him and wanted him all over again. She caressed the solid bulk of his shoulders and inhaled deeply of his musky scent, smiling to herself. A man who could make her feel this wonderful was worth keeping around awhile longer.
KYLE WATCHED THE LAST contractions of her climax move through her, admiring the flush that crept across her breasts and up her neck. He breathed in the womanly scent of her, every breath making his cock twitch. Sitting back on his heels, he slipped on the condom, then reached for her again. He wanted to be inside her before she was all the way back to earth, to feel her contract around him with the remnants of her own release.
As soon as he was all the way inside, he reached up and pulled off the blindfold and tossed it aside. She blinked at him, then smiled, a sated look in her eyes that made him want her even more. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Hello.” He emphasized the greeting with a hard thrust.
Her eyes widened and she raised up on her elbows, watching as he began to move in and out. “Do I pass inspection?” he asked, a little unnerved by the way she fixed her gaze on him. Like most men, he was somewhat preoccupied by this particular anatomical feature, particularly at moments like this. But it was after all a penis—not a body part that would ever win awards for beauty.
“Oh, yes. I think you’ll do just fine.” She lay back again and slid her hands under her ass, lifting herself to a more acute angle, one that made her tighten around him more, so that his vision lost focus and his breath came in gasps.
“You like that?” she asked, as she squeezed him tighter still, then released.
His reply was a muffled grunt. He lowered his head and focused on the task at hand, aware of her soft inner thighs brushing against him, her sweet musky scent surrounding him.
He came hard, bucking against her, reaching out to grasp her hips, sinking his fingers into her soft flesh as he spent himself in her. He sank onto her, head on her chest, arms surrounding her in a hug. Some dimly heard portion of his brain told him he must be crushing her, but he paid no heed. He wanted her close to him in this moment. As close as she could be.
He didn’t know how long they lay together like that before she prodded his shoulder. “Roll over,” she ordered.
He complied, sliding out of her. Eyes still shut, he stripped off the condom, then realized he had no idea where to put it. “There’s a trash can in the bathroom,” she said.
He nodded. “Bathroom.” He wasn’t sure he had the strength to roll over now, much less propel himself upright and to the bathroom.
She took the condom from him and he opened his eyes in time to see her walking toward the bathroom, hips swaying, that gorgeous fall of black hair swinging in time to her movements. He closed his eyes again, smiling. Did he know how to pick them or what?
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