He was wild, then, f**king me so hard, and intermittently slapping my bu**ocks while I whimpered and begged him to do something, either stop or don't stop.
His c**k got even more dense and he plowed into me, our bodies slapping, and then he came, groaning with pleasure. Gripping my h*ps with both hands, he wound down and then pulled out. I rolled onto my side, squeezed my thighs together, and had an orgasm, just like that, right after him. This one was more mechanical, and I didn't see any pretty lights or hear music, but I felt calm and sated.
He bit my shoulder and said, “What do you want me to do now? Want me to go down on you? Tell me what you want.”
“I already came,” I said, a little giddy. “That was pretty intense, and it caught me by surprise.”
“Ah, I hadn't noticed. I'm sorry. I'll do better next time.” He lay behind me and draped one arm across my chest.
He didn't fall asleep right away, not from what I could tell from his breathing. I reached over and clicked off the lamp, and we lay in the dark, not speaking, for about half an hour until his breathing changed and I knew he was out.
I crept out of bed and went to the washroom.
I nearly screamed when I saw myself. My hair was all over the place, the parts that weren't matted sticking up like a punk-rock hairdo. My makeup wasn't exactly waterproof. It had not come off in the pool, which would have been fine, but had partially melted, the mascara forming dark rivers under my eyes.
“Pretty,” I said to myself in the mirror. I quickly got myself scrubbed down.
According to local time, I should have been sleeping, but my body thought it knew better.
I got my laptop from my suitcase and took it into the kitchenette, where the light and tapping wouldn't disturb Luthor.
It was my first time checking in since arriving in Indonesia, and I was surprised by how few emails had piled up in my inbox. Then again, the main sender of emails to me was Suzanne, and she was there with me.
I skimmed through the ones from my mother. She wanted details about my spur-of-the-moment getaway, and to lecture me that four days wasn't long enough to get acclimatized to a new time zone, let alone to relax and “enjoy” myself. Ah, if only she knew.
The name on the last email confused me, and at first I thought it was spam, but then I remembered Jacob's last name. Funny, he was just Jacob to me, no last name needed.
I was already wide awake, feeling unable to sleep, and Jacob's email only made my problem worse.
It read:
Dear Lexie,
I got worried when I didn't hear from you, so I swung by your place and your neighbor Mrs. O'Hara told me you're on a business trip. Since when do professional organizers go on business trips to Indonesia?
Is the old woman going senile, or are you actually that far away from me?
I want you here.
I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I was surprised you bought all that fancy underwear for me. Then I was thinking about it, and figured out you were trying to send me a message.
Oh, Lexie, I've been such an idiot. Of course I want more from you than what we have. Where are you? We need to talk.
Yours, Jacob
4: Stingray
I barely slept that night, but Luthor woke up well-rested and ready for stand-fucking in the shower.
Who was I to refuse?
I gripped the metal bars that seemed to be in the shower for safety, but were located in the perfect spots to hang onto for shower sex. Hmm.
Before we got started, he soaped me up, running his hands all over my body.
I said, “Are you still the gardener today, or do you want me to call you Mr. Thorne?”
“No games,” he said, smiling, and he kissed me as he reached down and washed between my legs. It felt funny, to have him touching me on my ass and between my folds in that manner, but soon the soap rinsed away and he was touching me for pleasure only.
I grabbed a loofah and sponged all over his sexy chest as he rubbed me, his fingers getting greedy and sliding into my opening. Holding his c**k in one hand, I used the loofah to brush his balls and inner thighs, which made him squirm. He took the sponge-y loofah from me and returned the favor, brushing it over my sensitive ni**les, down my mid-line, and between my legs. The material was rough, compared to his fingers, but the novelty of the sensation set me on fire.
I sighed and moved one leg out, opening myself wider to him.
He pressed in against me, fingered my opening, then squeezed in the head of his erection. He looked me right in the eyes as he pushed the shaft in. With our height difference, I shifted up a little on my toes, but realized I didn't have to. I leaned my shoulders against the milky-blue tile shower wall and tilted my h*ps toward him, and we fit perfectly. His c**k was up high on me, almost horizontal, and when he thrust out and in, he rubbed all along the length of my clit.
His face was so serious, his eyes ravenous. His black hair dripped with warm water, streaming from the overhead shower nozzle and falling gently over us.
I whispered, “That feels so good.”
“Like when we were in the pool,” he said.
“Exactly.”
We didn't talk again, just kissed. As he rocked against me, fanning the flames, my breathing came in ragged gasps. My mouth was open, warm water running in and out, and his mouth was there too, playing with my tongue, sucking on my lips.
I rolled my hips, finding my own rhythm to match his, and my hands moved down again, from around his neck and on down to his bu**ocks, where I held on tight, urging him harder into me.
This time, when I reached my cl**ax, there was no missing it. Power surged through me like pure light, and I gasped and cried out, almost sobbing.
He pulled out of me and jerked himself with one fist as he pressed into me, kissing me. His hand was moving on his cock, pressed hard between us, and his whole body tensed. He pressed his face into my neck and groaned, then relaxed.
I released my fingers from his bu**ocks, noting in our reflection across the bathroom that I'd left finger-shaped red marks there.
He chuckled sheepishly and looked at me through his thick, dark eyebrows. “Sorry I had to pull out there, but the angle … it was really good, but I couldn't … you know.”
I smiled at him, thinking about how funny it was guys can say the filthiest things to you before or during sex, but right after, they're all modest, like shy teens.
“That's cool,” I said. “You shot pretty hard. I think you got me under my chin.”
His eyes grew wide. “No!”
I tilted up my chin to show him where I'd felt the hot splash.
He retrieved the loofah and some soap and gave me a quick wash. “I didn't see anything,” he said, grinning, “but I'll wash you down, just in case.”