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One hand’s worth of her nails dug into the back of Mike’s neck, leaving, he was sure, half-moon impressions he’d get shit for, later, from his team. But he didn’t give a fuck. He’d wear them like badges. The single ones amongst his teammates could envy him all they wanted, and the married ones would nod, knowingly.
Mike, for all that he’d had a wife once, had never had this before, and he wasn’t going to miss a single bit of the new form of intimacy.
When Joelle removed her hands from their glorious positions, pushing him up and away a few inches, Mike immediately wondered what he’d done wrong. Had he been too far inside his own head and missed something?
“I—"
“Suck my nipples,” she interrupted him, entreating with a groan. Using both her free hands to reach for the hem of her shirt, she ripped it up over her head.
Well, hello. Joe didn’t need to ask twice.
“My pleasure,” Mike rasped, all in again as he stepped up his assault on her clit while using his teeth to pull down her bra for the second time. Once the stretchy material was caught under her abundance, he attacked her nipples with the same fervor as his finger between her legs. They were diamond hard, all her erogenous buds, and each time he bit down on her nipple, more moisture slipped from her pussy.
Joe wasn’t quiet.
Hell no. She howled his name. “Mike! I’m… I’m…”
Yes. He knew what she was trying to say. She was almost there. He could tell by way she arched her back, leaning into the last of it before…
She screamed.
Fuck yes!
Her orgasm was a heavenly anthem he wanted to hear play over and over again for his deprived ears. He felt the pulsations in her pussy, and… He swallowed down a sudden doubt. Was Joe like his ex? Wanting his touch gone as soon as she’d reached her pinnacle? Mike didn’t know what to do and was momentarily paralyzed, watching the woman beneath him for signs.
While Joe panted her way back to reality, she confidently threaded one hand down between them to press his palm harder into her crotch, extracting every bit of goodness from their contact.
Mike had his answer. Joe liked to prolong the connection, and he was all for that. He’d stay put for as long as she wanted him. He?—
“Your winkie. Now,” she demanded.
Mike, caught off guard by her words, laughed above her. “Winkie?” he couldn’t help but chortle. Here she was being assertive, but used a kids’ word for his dick. It was damned cute.
“I can’t say it,” she whined, but her diffidence was downright musical. It made her neediness part of the greater symphony. “Just…do it.”
Mike wasn’t going to argue with that. His dick was singing the same song.
He shucked down his pants, and they were somewhere around his knees when it suddenly hit him.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, stopping dead, pissed beyond belief.
Joelle opened one eye.
“What?” she questioned.
“No condoms.”
Her body went from welcoming to taut beneath him in a split second. “Well, crap,” she agreed.
“I don’t suppose you’re on the pill?”
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “For what? I haven’t found anybody willing to take me on in a long flocking time, so I’ve been giving the artificial hormones a nice, extended nap.”
Mike grunted, hit Joe’s mouth with a fast, apologetic kiss, then rolled off her while still keeping a proprietary hand on the breast nearest to him. “That just sucks,” he managed.
“It does. But…I can, too, you know. Suck,” she clarified from under slightly lowered lashes. She glanced down at his still exuberant dick which hadn’t gotten the shit-out-of-luck message.
“Nope. Not going there,” he said, patting her stomach with his free hand before slowly zipping her up. “The first time I come with you, I want to be buried deep in your sweet snatch.”