CHAPTER 17
Samantha:
Gavin hovers over me like the best kind of predator, like he’s going to eat me alive. Which I’m not about to complain about. I’ve been lusting after him since the day I first saw him. Our brief interlude Friday night after the club, and the accidental peep show only served to whet my appetite. I feel like a woman about to feast now. And be feasted on.
I peruse his body, drinking him in, looking my fill. Gavin is all toned, sculpted muscle and golden skin, pure lean sex appeal. From the way his biceps bulge as he holds himself over me to the way his six—no, his eight—pack points to the treasure that lies beneath his black boxer briefs. His cock is so big and hard that it pulls the elastic waistband away from his stomach a good inch or so, almost enough for me to get a glimpse inside. But what I really want is a feel it, to touch it, to taste it.
I press my hand to his pec and walk my fingers down, grazing my fingernails over the ridges of his muscles, all the way to his waistband. I dip one finger into the opening there and am delighted at Gavin’s resulting shudder when I barely brush the tip of him. I meet his gaze, looking him boldly in the eye, and I slip my entire hand inside to grip his shaft. His eyes close and he drops his head to my forehead on a moan while thrusting against my hand. I take his response as encouragement to continue, stroking slowly up, then down, then back up again. Here, I run my thumb in small circles around his crown. Gavin sucks in a shaky breath and thrusts his hips again.
I use my hold on his cock to guide him lower, pulling him down over me until our bodies are pressed together. Then I position his hardness against my clit. When I let him go, I wrap my legs around him, grind against him in a rhythm that increases my arousal, and hopefully his. But it’s not enough. I ache for him, feel empty without him inside me.
He must feel it, too, because the moment I begin tugging at the cotton covering him, he balances his weight on one arm so he can reach down with his free hand to tug at my panties. They don’t come easily though, with me lying down as I am. With a growl, he sits back on his haunches and grabs the string in both hands. And rips. The sound of fabric tearing echoes in the otherwise silent room.
“I liked those,” I tease.
“I’ll buy you another pair,” he intones as he slides the rest of the fabric off my body. Then he shoves his own underwear down his legs and kicks them off. My mouth waters at the sight of his cock hanging hard and heavy between us, like a promise of pleasure to come. Pun intended.
“I have more.”
He groans at my words. “I can’t wait to ruin those too.”
I giggle but don’t say anything. I don’t have any words to respond with. I wouldn’t be at all bothered if he ripped every pair of panties I own like this. Totally worth it. I would buy more just so he could rip those off me too.
Gavin reaches to his bedside table, slides open a drawer, and produces a tiny foil wrapper. I watch as he rips the wrapper open discards it on the floor before rolling the condom onto himself. He positions himself at my entrance, but he doesn’t enter me right away. Instead, he pauses, looks down at me, waiting. For permission, maybe?
I spread my legs wider, wrap them around him, cross them over the globes of his butt, and use the position to pull him down to me, into me.
He slides in easily, and we moan in unison. His cock feels larger than I expected, larger than it looked. It stretches me, fills me. After taking a moment for both of us to adjust, he pulls out almost completely and then slides slowly back into me until he’s buried fully again. It’s the start of a slow, deliberate rhythm, and my gaze is glued to the place where our two bodies meet. Something about watching him slide in and out of me is so heady, so arousing.
My clit is aching for attention, and at the risk of blocking my own view, I stretch a hand down to satisfy the need for additional stimulation. Gavin notices the direction of my movement and balances himself on one elbow so he can take over my ministrations. He presses his thumb against me and begins a slow circular motion, repeating the action when I respond to his touch in pleasure. Using my reactions as his guide, he practices his touch, perfecting it. It only takes him a few moments to figure out what works for me, reading my body, my reactions easily until he is applying just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of movement. Before long, I’m close. Between the slow and constant thrust of his cock inside me, the way he curves his back as he slides out of me so that the head of his cock strokes the front of my inner walls, and the perfect placement of his thumb on my clit, I don’t stand a chance. This man knows what he’s doing, and what he’s doing is bringing me to utter and complete rapture.
“Gavin,” I whisper his name against his chest, then plant a little kiss to the corded muscle there.
“Mmm,” he answers breathily.
“I’m so close.”
He falters in his movements, but recovers quickly. “It’s so hot hearing you say that.”
I tighten my inner muscles around him, willing my orgasm to arrive faster. I’m desperate for it. “So close.”
“Yesss,” he hisses, dropping his head and peppering my cheek, my chin, my lips with tiny, breathless kisses. All without breaking stride. “Come for me.”
As if obeying his command, my body tightens, balancing right at the brink of ecstasy. I teeter there for a heartbeat, and then I crash into the pleasure. I squeeze my eyes shut and throw my head back.
“Gavin!” I moan his name helplessly against his lips as my body quakes and quivers beneath him. My hips buck of their own accord, seeking out more of the bliss he’s offering. Gavin never lets up, never pauses the motion of his hips or his hand. He wrings every possible second of pleasure from my body. Just as my orgasm crests and begins to wane, Gavin jerks against me. His motions, previously so controlled and steady become wild and erratic, needy.
“Fuuuuck.” His cry is a proclamation, an announcement of his own orgasm, as if his body wasn’t already communicating it’s arrival. His cock jerks inside me with the force of his eruption, and I marvel at the feel of him there and the look of pure rapture on his face. His eyes are tightly closed, lips parted, breaths raspy and quick.
Then he collapses over me, his weight pressing down on me only briefly, as if he’s lost himself to the moment, completely forgotten control of his own body. His breathing begins to return to normal, and he lifts himself onto his elbows again, looks down at me with concern. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, actually kind of missing the weight of him on me.
“Good.” He reaches to the bedside table for some tissues and pulls out of me. Then he cleans himself off, discards the condom in the tissues, and rolls away from me, collapses onto his back next to me. We’re both breathing heavy, both flushed and sweaty. “That was incredible.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I agree. What I don’t tell him is that it was probably the best orgasm of my life. I’ll let him give me a few more before I bolster his ego with that news.
We lie there like that for a long time, until our breathing returns to normal. Then Gavin rolls onto his side. “I could use a shower. You?”
Is he inviting me to shower with him?
“Hoping for round two?”
He chuckles. “I’ll take any opportunity I can get to be naked with you and touch your gorgeous body.” As if to prove his point, he traces the tip of one finger lightly over my collar bone and down between my breasts. “And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about having my way with you in the shower.
“Hmm…” I say, feigning thoughtfulness. “I guess I could use a shower.” Because I also am not going to turn down a chance to be naked with him. Or have my wicked way with him. Again.