He obliged, and the thrilling panic of release rushed through me. I arched my back and came, gasping nonsense into Isha’s neck, and the sensation of him pulsing finished me off.
Isha came with a low roar. I tipped my head back to catch a glimpse of him. Panting, and his strong body sheened with sweat, he was so fucking beautiful. I gazed at him, still convulsing with my own orgasm.I want to kiss him. More than that. I wanted to maul his face until we were both hard again so we could keep fucking till the sun came up.
I settled for a deep breath and a weary smirk. “Okay?”
Isha pulled out slowly, rubbing my chest. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Why?”
“Jesus Christ.” Isha rolled his eyes. “Because I just fucked you like you’re made of steel, not flesh and bone. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Nope. I’d never let you do anything I don’t enjoy.”
“Good, ‘cause I have a hard time controlling myself with you. I—uh, never mind.”
Curiosity broke through the post-coital haze I was floating on. Isha got up to ditch the condom, then came back to the bed. He hovered as though he was about to pat my head and leave.
Fuck that.
I grabbed his hand and tugged him down, ignoring the fact that I was a jizz-smeared wreck. “What were you going to say?”
Isha sat on the edge of the bed. His hands twitched like he wanted to touch me, but he kept them in his lap. “I don’t know, man. Just rambling.”
“Liar.”
“Yeah. What are you going to do about it?”
He had me there. I found a T-shirt down the side of the bed and wiped my stomach. There wasn’t much else to say, but the prospect of him walking out on me after a quick fuck didn’t feel right. Not anymore, if it ever had. “I’m going to go downstairs and make dinner…for both of us. It’s up to you if you stay.”
I reclaimed my sweatpants and left him naked and alone in my bedroom. It was a rush until I considered the very real possibility that he wouldn’t want my chicken curry out of a jar and microwave rice. Isha was rich. He didn’t eat shit like that, right?
As if I knew.
I threw it together all the same, mechanically stirring until warm arms slid around me from behind. It was so unexpected that I jumped, sending sauce splattering over the stove top. “Shit.”
“Sorry.”
Isha let me go.
I spun around and reached for him. “Don’t be a twat, I just didn’t hear you come down.” I coaxed him back. His bare chest brushed mine and I shivered. My house was never cold, but goosebumps spread over my skin.
Isha rubbed my arms. “I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Being normal with someone I’ve fucked.” He gestured at the messy pan on the stove and plates I’d got out of the cupboard. “What are we going to do? Eat dinner then fuck again?”
“If you want.”
“And what about tomorrow? And the day after that? I didn’t want this to happen because I don’t want things to be awkward between us when we stop hooking up. I like you too much for that.”
I took a chance and pressed my lips to his chest, a swift kiss over his pounding heart. “You’re basing that on the assumption that we stop hooking up. Who’s to say you won’t come back tomorrow and fuck me again? And the day after that?”
I turned back to the stove, giving him the chance to back off, to put an end to the chaos between us once and for all.
Isha came up on me again. His body pressed against my back, and his hand ghosted down my abdomen, slipping beneath my waistband. Hot fingers wrapped around my dick while his other hand gripped my neck. “I could fuck you again right now. That’s what scares me…I don’t know how I’m ever going to stop.”
I fought with everything I had to keep from fucking his goddamn hand. Failed. “Why do you have to stop? And even if you do, what’s the worst that can happen? Do you seriously think I’d turn on your kids because you didn’t want in my bed anymore? What kind of—Jesus—arsehole do you take me for?”