Page 92 of Reluctantly Yours

My response is muddled in my brain because all I can focus on is the way he’s fucking me with his tongue, rocking my hips so his nose presses into my clit.

“Do you want my finger in your ass, Chloe?”

“Yes.” The word is out of my mouth before my brain can object.

He gently presses in and I can already tell it’s going to be the most intense orgasm of my life, which is saying something, because the past two nights have already taken the top spots.

I’m not even moving, yet my body feels like it’s about to spin off in every direction. My hands grip the headboard, holding on for dear life.

He uses his free hand to grip my ass and all the sensation together—his tongue and his finger and the pressure on my clit—has me exploding into a million pieces.

I’m still gripping the headboard and panting when Barrett eases me back to straddle his hips. My attention is immediately drawn to the rock-hard bulge beneath me. I press my hips down against him. My clit is sensitive after my orgasm, but I can’t help myself.

“Easy,” Barrett says, lifting me off him and onto my back. He switches places, straddling me now.

“What are you going to do about that?” I’m hoping I can entice him into letting me touch him, but as usual Barrett is a stickler for the rules.

“I’ll take care of it later.” He hovers above me, his arms flexing as he lowers to press a kiss to my jaw.

“Or you can take care of it now?” I say, my eyes glued to where his erection is strained against his zipper. “That would be okay.”

“You want to watch?” He grins wickedly.

I nod eagerly. I should be in complete dismay of where all this sexual confidence is coming from, but I’m too excited about a front row seat to Barrett pleasuring himself.

Barrett unzips his pants and frees his hard length from his boxer briefs. The dark hair at the base of his dick is neatly trimmed. I saw him in the shower in the Hamptons, but up close is completely different.

Barrett licks his hand, then slides that hand down the length of his cock. Another lick and he begins to stroke both hands up and down in unison while also rotating his wrists. He’s not gentle with himself, as his hands squeeze his steely flesh and his forearms flex with each stroke. His breathing is heavy, his eyebrows drawn down in concentration. I’m intent on what he’s doing, but then I can feel him watching me. He looks so serious that I’m completely caught off guard when he looks up and winks at me.

“Cup your breasts,” he says and I do. My hands knead and squeeze. I circle a thumb around my nipple, relishing the hunger I see in Barrett’s eyes and recognizing the ache that is starting to build again between my thighs.

“Just like that.” He groans, his hips flexing with every stroke. He drops his gaze between my thighs. “Fuck. Look at how wet you are. You’re dripping wet. Do you like seeing me fuck my hand, Chloe? Imagining I’m deep inside your tight little cunt?”

His words are too much. I snake a hand from my breast to my clit and start a demanding rhythm of my own. I guess I was never in any real danger of shredding my labia. I hope that doesn’t mean our nightly WordIt game is over.

“Do you know how gorgeous you look right now?” His words come out with a pant.

I want to see Barrett finish but my own orgasm is threatening my eyes to close and to throw my head back. Barrett leans forward, his erection pressing into my belly, and whispers in my ear.

“I’m going to come all over your perfect tits.”

That sentence sends me over the edge.

“Oh, God. Barrett.Yes.”

My back arches up and a million sparks of pleasure explode from my core and radiate throughout my body. I recover just in time to open my eyes and see Barrett kneeling over me, his hands wringing out pleasure, sending the hot liquid of his orgasm across my chest.

I lay still, wondering what I should do, what the protocol is for this moment. The evidence of an insanely hot hookup with my sexy fake boyfriend slowly drying on my chest.

“Don’t move,” Barrett says. He climbs off the bed and walks into the bathroom.

With Barrett gone, I give into the urge to run my fingers through his cum, smear it across my chest. Then another thought occurs to me. I haven’t tasted him. Curious, I put my finger in my mouth.

It’s tangy and slightly salty, with a sweet, milky texture. I like it. I go for another taste.

At that moment, Barrett strides into the room with a wet washcloth in his hand.

“Jesus, Chloe.”