“Yeah. Yeah, make me your bad girl…”
“Fuck…” He groaned again as he started kissing my neck. “All I could think about when you went out with your friends was getting you under me so I could fuck this tight pussy…”
One hand slid to my breast and squeezed, his fingers teasing my nipple as he kept thrusting into me… and wildfire swept through my body. I bore down on his dick, squeezing him on every thrust, and he picked up the pace.
“You came home to me so fucking wet…” he groaned into my ear. “You’re gonna come so hard on my cock, aren’t you—”
He didn’t even get to finish that sentence before the tidal wave gripped me. I squeezed my thighs around him and kinda screamed, and he pounded into me as I broke into pieces under him. I squealed and panted, rubbing myself against him with every thrust, taking every pulse of pleasure he could wring from my body.
Then I went limp, my whole body shuddering as he kept fucking me, slowly.
Holy God. That was… epic.
Who knew a man could make me come so hard?
I blinked and tried to focus on something other than him, as I gathered my wits.
Then I pushed at his chest.
“Get up.”
He stopped fucking me. We were both panting as he studied my face. I was already limp with exhaustion.
“Get off me,” I repeated. “Pull out, please.”
He pushed himself up on his arms, slowly, but he didn’t pull out. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, pushing at his hip, and finally, he eased off, pulling out. I rolled out from under him and pushed my shirt down to cover my body.
He sat there staring at me, panting, as I grabbed a pair of sweats from a drawer and pulled them on. He watched me in a daze.
“What’s—?”
“I’m done. Thanks for the fuck.” I glanced at him, at his shocked face and his hungry eyes. “It’s just sex, right? Hope you enjoyed it.”
“Courteney—”
I walked out, because why would I care if he enjoyed it? My pussy didn’t care.
I left him there, with his gorgeous body all naked and his big, hard dick with the condom still on. I left the poolhouse, while maybe he struggled to pull on his clothes, or deal with his erection. I didn’t look back.
I headed for the house, where I planned to go straight upstairs to my room and lock myself in, and I planned to sleep. Alone.
Because it was just sex, right? And it was damn good for me.
I got mine.
Who cared about his?
I left him hanging, sexually—since sex seemed to be the only thing that mattered to him. The same way he’d left me hanging, emotionally, so many times.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Xander
Iwoke up the next day feeling like a sack of shit.
Not enough sleep.