Dear Reader,
This is chapter 2. You may want to read one first, you can click on my author page to get there.
*
I realized I was still on the kitchen floor, lying on top of Stephanie, completely spent. I buried my face in her shoulder, almost afraid to look up. When everything stopped pounding and blood flow returned to my brain I was flooded with a tidal wave of feelings. Disbelief at my lack of restraint forefront among them. I had just thrown her down and taken her. And I had ridden her hard. Maybe too hard.
Then I felt her rib cage heaving up and down. Like a huge racking sob type of movement. Shit.
Oh my God, did I
hurt
her?
I looked up. "Stephanie, are you okay?"
She was laughing. Laughing?
"Okay. Are you kidding? I'm bloody fantastic. Like every-cell-in-my-body-singing fantastic. Like call everyone you ever knew and--"
I panicked.
"Stephanie, you can't TELL anybody."
"Well of course not. I'm saying that if I could I would shout it from the roof tops and say I'M GREAT." She let out peals of joyous laughter.
I couldn't help laughing too.
"But next time let's use a bed, shall we. This tile's freaking hard on my back."
"Stephanie," I said firmly, back in parent mode. "There can't be a next time."
I helped her up. Zipped the convict back in where he belonged. Tried to make myself look serious and remorseful. I heard what I had said but part of me couldn't believe I said it. She was right, it had been fucking fantastic.
Which might explain why my voice hadn't been all that convincing. I said it again, more firmly.
"There can't be a next time."
She looked at me and by the twitching of her lips I could tell she was trying hard to surprise a smile. "Right," she said. "Absolutely. Right-o."
Stephanie pulled her shirt up as she walked away so I got a clear view of her ass. "Definitely, definitely, not," she said over her shoulder.
Oh, I was so screwed. I put my head in my hands. I was torn. Because yeah, I was screwed. And... I wanted more. Much, much, more. I wanted to be so, soooo screwed. Every which way. And I know who I wanted it from. And she was only one room away. I looked up and prayed for willpower. And then I prayed that I wouldn't have any.
That night in bed, I replayed what happened in the kitchen over and over, and it didn't lose any of its heat. If anything it got hotter. I could hear her labored breathing. Her squeak, the squeal, the panting. How hard it was for her to get words out. How fierce and growling I sounded demanding them from her. And I could
smell
her, hear the slapping sounds we made after I threw her down onto the floor and pounded into her over and over.
My thumb fingered the waste band of my boxers, hesitating, deciding. I got up. Padded silently over to Stephanie's room. Listened. I couldn't hear anything.
Her door was slightly opened. I knocked on it. "Stephanie?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
I'm just going to talk to her. See if she's okay. We never talked about it. I peeked in, opening the door bit by bit. She was wearing a pink baby doll night gown, she sat up when she saw me.
"Steph, are you alright?"
"Yes," she said. "No."
She opened her arms and I went to her.
"What do you mean 'no'?" I asked. I rubbed a hand down her jaw.
"No," she said more firmly. She glided her hands over my chest. She leaned in and kissed me, lightly touching her lips to mine before clutching my shoulders. "I'm not alright. I need more. And I need it from you."
And just like that in a blink of an eye she was underneath me, her arms extended up above her head, wrists pinned against the bed held down by my hand, her hips thrusting up against me before I even realized I'd moved. Part of me tried to stop myself, but I couldn't. Stephanie moaned and her mouth opened. I released her wrists. Suddenly I wanted to touch her everywhere. My hands coasted up and down her sides, skimmed over her breasts. I grabbed her head and kissed her, holding her while I plundered her mouth with more blind passion than finesse. I tried to force myself to slow down, but her writhing under me just spurred me on. It had been so long. And everything about her seemed so right. I grabbed the neckline of her nightgown and ripped it down the middle.
Jesus. My rational and my mind were torn in two as well.
I spread my hand out low on her abdomen, forcing her into the mattress as she struggled up to get to me. I paused, trying to clear my head.
"Please, don't stop," Stephanie panted. She pushed her hips up more. She was thrashing. I leaned forward and used my whole torso and arms to pin her down, freezing her in place.
"Stephanie. Stop. We have to talk about this."
She shook her head no. No talking. But we had to talk. Shit. We hadn't used a condom. "Fuck, Steph. We need to--"
She surged up and kissed me, a hot searing brand that sent all thoughts out of my mind. I grabbed one of her legs and wrapped it around me as I kissed her back. I was rocking my hips into her, dry humping her practically, and ready to explode. Fuck.
I had to find a way to slow down. This afternoon had been over in a flash. I didn't want her to think I was the kind of guy who went up in a blaze of glory every time.
I have GOT to get control of this situation.
I rolled over and rolled her on top of me. I fitted her to me until her bare core was riding over the cotton covering my erection. I guided her until her arms were behind her head, and I helped lift and lower her in a very slow lazy rhythm. Once she had it going I stared at her, opening the two halves of her gown to caress her breasts, unabashedly staring at her beauty. Only the young could have such big, full breasts and still have them be so high and round and ... perfect. I pictured licking them, biting her softly, placing little kisses fiery kisses on them. I felt the slow burn in my cock.