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Slap Shot(7)

By:Lily Harlem

He stiffened in my arms, buried deep, catching me just as my pussy milked through a third mind-altering orgasm.

“I’m coming,” he growled, his weight crushing down on me. “I’m fucking coming, I’m coming really fucking high up inside you.” He buried his cock deeper and I was aware of his rigid shaft throbbing and pulsing within me, filling the condom.

Feeling his pleasure catapulted me onto an extreme high and euphoria flooded my being. His whole body jerked against me, drawing out the ecstasy. The small amount of breath I had was shunted from my lungs in several sharp gasps.

“Oh yes, fuck, yes,” he groaned, his palms catching my cheeks. “That was fucking awesome. You’re fucking awesome.”

His mouth claimed mine and he kissed me passionately and thoroughly, his tongue exploring every part of my mouth as his body trembled through several deeply profound spasms. I swept my hands over his broad shoulders. They were laced with sweat, the heat pouring from him as hot as any fire.

Suddenly I landed back in the real world, our precarious, risky position taking control once more of my thoughts. I pressed against his chest and tore my lips from his.

He seemed reluctant to move and despite my best shove stayed over me, still kissing me, still rocking into me as we both caught our breath.

“We have to get dressed,” I panted.

“Mmm, in a minute.”

“No, now, someone might come in.”

“No one is coming in.”

“They might, get off me.”

He straightened, stood tall, but stayed buried inside me as he ran his calloused palms over the inside of my thighs, which were spread around his hips. “You’re so soft,” he said in an awe-filled voice, looking down at where we were joined. “So soft and such a perfect fit for me.” He pulled out a little then smoothed back in, swiping over my clit with his thumb.

“Oh god, please, stop,” I said, wanting nothing more than to go all night. I’d had hot, fast sex before but nothing had ever matched this, never had I blasted out three really intense orgasms from a quickie.

“Your words don’t match your physical response,” he said, a note of humor in his tone now. “I don’t think you want to stop at all. I think you want to keep fucking me all night.”

I summoned up the last dregs of my pathetic willpower and shifted up the table. His barely softening cock slid from me and his hands released my thighs. “I have to go check on the fireworks,” I said.

“Babe, I think we just made our own damn fireworks.” He chuckled, stooping for my panties then swinging them from his index finger in my direction.

“And we shouldn’t have, it was a huge mistake.” I snatched my panties from him.

His face creased into a frown. “Ouch, say it how it is why don’t you? You want to physically kick me in the nuts too?”

I sighed and slipped from the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Shit, I did mean it. I’d just blown two years of celibacy. “I said I wasn’t dating. That’s because I don’t need the complication, the distraction of a man in my life right now.”

“But you clearly needed a man, me, just then. What was it you said?” He tugged off the condom and tucked his cock away. “Oh yes, I remember.” He made his voice high and breathless. “‘Oh god, yes, yes, I love it, don’t stop’. Now that to me sounds like someone who’s been denying herself something she needs for far too long.” He dropped the condom in the wastebasket.

I wriggled my skirt straight, adjusted my blouse. “I was denying myself for a reason.”

“Explain.” He reached for his shirt and shoved his arms through the sleeves, the noise of cotton against flesh suddenly loud in the silence of the room.

He carefully did up his buttons.

“Explain,” he said again when his clothing was neat. “I want to know why a fabulously sexy woman like you hasn’t been taking a man to her bed.” Shadows from the dim lamp sliced across his face and highlighted his now for real mussed-up hair.

I tightened my lips. There was no way in hell I was going to explain to him that I’d been busy burying a past I wasn’t proud of, shaping a new image not just to the outside world but also to myself. “You have to leave,” I said, stooping and banging things back onto the desk. “I still have a few hours of work to do.”

His eyes narrowed as he lifted up the laptop. “Then when you’ve finished come back to my place,” he said, his voice as thick and inviting as sticky, sweet molasses. “Come back and sleep in my bed and let me remind you exactly what you’ve been missing.”