He had come over for dinner while I was still working at home. I told him I'd join him once I was done with my work. He leaned over my shoulder and I could just barely smell his body wash, something young and enticing—coconut mixed with peppermint. It made me want to rest my head against his chest and breathe him in. But I kept my eyes focused on the words in front of me.
"I'm almost done," I said, "Then we can go watch TV."
He breathed deeply in reply, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin on my neck. He leaned forward again, the scruff of his beard brushing the tender spot between my neck and collarbone.
"Okay," he whispered playfully, his hands finding their way to my tense shoulders and beginning to massage. "I guess I'll let you finish first."
I tried to focus on the paper in front of me, but the letters were becoming blurred as I gave into his touch. It was like all the tension from my long day of work was traveling out of my shoulders and into his hands.
I closed my eyes, imagining the veins in his arms. Those fucking sexy veins. I had tried for weeks now to stop tracing over those veins with my eyes, stop picturing those hands on me. We were friends. Nothing like that could happen.
Still, I could feel the sexual tension in the air. It was strong, palpable.
He hesitated for a moment and I wondered what he was thinking. We hadn't done anything yet, just harmless flirting here and there, but nothing concrete. Even though we both knew we wanted it.
His fingers slid slowly up the base of my neck, pressing slightly at the vein that was pulsing with anticipation. "Mhmm," he sighed. "I guess I'll leave you alone."
His voice was thick and it sent goosebumps from my neck down to my legs. It was fucking insane how just his voice could do that to me. I closed my eyes then opened them again, forcing myself to look at the screen in front of me. He pressed his chin into my neck again, then slowly moved upward, scratching me softly with his beard.
Fuck it. I wasn't going to get anything done.
I leaned into him and felt him stiffen. This was the moment. It was either happening or it wasn't. I wished, again, that I could read his thoughts. The thoughts in my own head were so loud I swear he could hear them.
His hands shifted forward again, tracing over my collarbone. He slid one finger underneath the hem of my shirt, making my body flush warm. Then he began to alternate between touching me gently and pressing his fingers hard into my skin. The sensation was driving me crazy. I could feel my clit start to throb in anticipation.
His hands paused on my chin, tracing my jaw line, then slowly turning me around to face him. His eyes were low, almost dream-like. So fucking sexy.
He tilted my face to his and kissed me softly. I swear it was like my lips melted into his, like our bodies knew each other. We became urgent. He lifted me from the chair and thrust my body into his. My hands pulled his hair; I dug my fingernails into the warm skin of his back. He grabbed at my arms, my neck, my breasts. Every touch filled me with more and more pleasure.
He led me to my bedroom, lips still locked on mine. Even when he turned around to shut the door he pulled me with him, unable to let go. I didn't want him to.
He spun me around and slowly moved my hair from the nape of my neck. His hands traveled over my shoulders, my breasts, and my arms until they reached the hem of my skirt. I took a deep breath. Every cell in my body was pulsing and I could feel that I was already soaking through my thong. God I wanted him.
He squeezed my hips, my ass, then slowly pulled my shirt over my head, running his hands over every inch of my bare skin. I was wearing a lace bralette and he took his time admiring it, slipping his fingers under the straps and moving the thin fabric aside to playfully flick my nipples. He squeezed my breasts again, then lifted my bralette over my head and moved to my skirt. It was almost painful, waiting as he slowly unzipped the back, taking his time to slide his fingers over my thong and touch me through the fabric.
I stood naked in front of him, and watched as his eyes traveled over my body. Slowly. Taking every inch of me in.
He groaned into my ears, "Fuck. Your body's incredible." and I moaned as he softly fingered my sex, "Goddamn, you don't know how long I've wanted this."
I felt like my entire body was vibrating, as he continued to circle my clit with his thumb, slowly sliding one finger in and out of my soaking cunt. His other hand cupped a boob, and pinched my nipple. Twisting and pulling it until I was whimpering. His breath was heavy on my ear, as he nuzzled my neck; nipping and sucking. He slid back, letting me roll on to my back and dipped his head to suck in a nipple while a hand kept working my dripping cunt. He hooked his fingers slightly, and starts moving them in a rocking motion. He pushed deeper, pulsing quickly, slowly, then quickly again. A rhythm that made my body both tingle and squirm with pleasure. I moan, my breathing shallow, as his fingers moved faster, and harder, his mouth hot on my nipple, sucking it.
"I love it when you moan," he said, pushing his fingers deeper, making me arch my back and clutch the sheets with pleasure. "But now I wanna know what you sound like when I'm inside you."
My body quivered. I was out of control, intoxicated by his every touch. He was going to make me cum. And I was powerless. Not that I wanted this to end any differently anyway.
With his fingers still inside me, he maneuvered his body and pulled down his pants, revealing the cock I'd been dreaming about fucking for months. That forbidden body part, that goddamn forbidden man. I wanted all of him.
He slid his fingers out and his penis inside me in one motion. He felt so full. So fucking good. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but he saw me and tugged at my bottom lip. "Don't you hold back. I wanna hear you. I wanna hear you scream."
I cried out, breathy and uncontrollably as he thrusted again and again. I was already so close to cumming it was unbelievable. My fingernails dug into his back and he bit my collarbone as he reached his own orgasm. I could feel his body—every thick, strong muscle, the warmth of his chest pressed against mine.
"Moan." He commanded as he thrust even deeper and I did. I moaned. And I moaned. And I pulled him closer to me as he came.
His fingers slid back inside me and he pulsed again. My entire body clenched, then released and I cried out as I came.
We fucked for hours after, rolling around, pulling hair, grabbing breasts and ass and shoulders and backs and skin. I rode him until he came then he thrust into me while fingering my clit until I did too, a beautiful climax of screams and scratches and bliss.
When we were finished, he kissed me again, then pulled me to his chest. "I don't know what the fuck just happened," he murmured into my hair, pushing a loose strand away from my face, "But damn. That was good."