Page 55 of Off the Post

A growl of satisfaction rips free from my throat. “Don’t say things like that,” I say, dipping my head over her breast to suck a nipple between my teeth. Hard enough that it makes her squirm, a squeak of approval breaking free. “It goes straight to my head.”

She giggles, shifting a hand between us and running exploratory fingers over the crown of my cock. “I see that.”

I huff out a pained groan and rock into her hand as she curls it around the base and strokes.

“Verdammte Scheiße,” I moan out. My ability to hold on has worn thin, and I’m not sure I’ll make it to the finish line if she continues touching me like this. I want to be inside her welcoming body too badly to miss the opportunity by coming too soon.

I gently remove her hand with one of mine, pressing it firmly into the mattress above her head, and return to my quest to make her come. I tease my fingertips over the cleft of her folds before sucking my middle finger into my mouth, getting it nice and slicked. Her eyes turn glassy and her tongue traces her bottom lip, her hungry gaze following my hand gliding down her center.

With two fingers, I part her velvet entrance and slide a finger through folds. She is hot and wet and so fucking tight.

Ali’s eyelashes flutter close on a hushed moan, her lips parting on a long sigh.

My own body reacts with eagerness and my cock twitches with excitement as I grow hungrier and more desperate for release. I want to hear that sound repeatedly once I’m buried deep inside.

I pump my finger, circling and changing the rhythm as our momentum builds. Ali’s inner muscles tense and clench around my finger, and I add one more with another claiming stroke.

I’m reaching the point where I may become an aching mess. All I want is to sink inside her tight body and never come up for air. My cock waits my command with delicious anticipation.

Ali’s mewls of pleasure do not help matters. She grinds against my hand with each passionate stroke, turning her head toward me and hooking her arm around my neck to offer me her mouth. I claim her mouth in a blinding kiss.

She reacts with a sensual moan; I rumble with a deep growl in response.

We break our kiss and she drops her head onto the mattress, panting for air. As my fingers pump, my thumb deftly strums over her clit and Ali’s thighs tighten around my hand. Suddenly, her back arches off the bed and she goes still for a moment, then releases a long, tortured moan as she trembles out her orgasm.

Ali sighs and her muscles relax, and I gently brush the loose strands of hair from her face. I place a kiss on her cheek and smile.

“You gut?”

She turns to look at me, the most beautiful grin I’ve ever seen fixed across her mouth.

“I’m very, very gut.” Ali sighs again, then pauses and chews on her bottom lip, as if considering something important. Flipping to her side so we face each other, she eyes me dubiously.

Her gaze moves downward and zeroes in on my throbbing dick bobbing at her belly. Then she wedges her hand between our hips, envelops my erection in her hand, and gives it a hard tug.

“But I could be a whole lot better.”

27

Ali

I’ve never reached orgasm with a romantic partner.

Until now.

I’ve gotten close in the past but never actually came. It’s been this elusive thing hanging over me—no matter what the guy has tried, it always ends with me just faking it for the sake of moving on.

With Soren, though, there’s not only an undeniable attraction that exists, but he allows me to feel comfortable with myself. There’s no need for me to act or pretend to be overcome with passion.

What I feel toward him is so potent and physically electrifying that I just can’t help myself.

The heavy weight of his cock in my hand causes a ripple of desire to zap through my veins as I run my palm over the velvety steel. I tease at the head with my fingernail before quickening my strokes and jerking him from base to tip. The sound of his tortured groans from the back of his throat is a powerful drug spurring me on.

I roll his sac in my hand experimentally, watching for his reaction, smiling with perverse pride when he flops on his back and throws a crooked arm over his eyes theatrically, as if the pleasure is killing him.

The headiness of being in control is all-consuming. I change up the pace, alternating the glide of my hand between quick and long pulls, and an urgent desire rushes directly to my sex with every sound he makes.

“I need to be inside you,” he says in a husky, insistent voice.