Gourmet 14

 

And then she relented to her body’s urgent demands, plunging herself onto him, rocking her clit against his pubic bone so that, with each stroke, her clit grew more and more swollen, burned more and more intensely with arousal. She put her lips on his and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, with the rhythm of her rocking, rising body. He wrapped his arms around her and he pressed her close to him, intensifying the sensations in her clit, constricting her air. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him deeply as she rode him, indulging her body’s pleasure.

The steady fucking and the rhythm of her clit against his public bone fueled her arousal. Charlotte pushed her hips down hard, pressing him deep inside her, reveling in his passion. Her clit throbbed under the pressure of her pubic bone rocking against his. Her rhythm grew more frantic, her breathing more shallow. Granting all her attention to the focal point of her arousal, she gasped and grunted with the rise and fall of her body. As the tension in her own abdomen grew, she flexed her back against his close embrace.

Oliver grasped her head between his hands and pulled her into an impassioned kiss, and she continued to ride him as his own hips rocked under her. He kissed her mouth, her earlobe, biting and sucking it, groaning hot breath against the junction of her throat and her jaw. With her arms still around his neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed, back arched, body rising and falling, hips rocking backward with every downward movement, rocking forward as she shifted up. Every muscle from her diaphragm to her thighs was quivering and tense as she rode him. Pressing her clit harder against him with every stroke, her body ascended toward climax until she crossed an excruciating threshold and shrieked into the air with each explosive contraction. She rode him all the harder as she came, fucking him passionately, possessively, worshipfully; she gifted him with her pleasure until the spasms faded and the tension in her back and thighs ebbed.

Panting, sweating, and pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm, she collapsed on top of him. She smiled against his ear and laughed a little, pleased with herself and flooded with endorphins. Still grinning, she raised herself to look at Oliver’s face, but her smile dropped away when she saw he had tears in his eyes. Instantly, he put his hands in her hair and pulled her toward him in a kiss.

He rolled her gently to her back and braced her thighs apart with his, never withdrawing from her. His fucking was focused, intent on his own orgasm. With his hands in her hair and his face close to hers, she felt the tension in his body, heard the intensity in his breathing. His back was slick under her hands as she held him close to her, not thinking, drowning in the sea of emotions and sensations, old and new, overwhelmed and gasping for air. When he came, his fingers gripped in her hair, tugging against her scalp, his temple pressed against hers, he jammed his hips against hers and gasped her name just once.

Tension drained from his body as he lay over her, his fingers relaxing, and his laborious breathing gradually slowed. He kissed her cheek tenderly and quietly withdrew from her. When he shifted to lie beside her, she rolled to her side and instinctively tucked her head in the crook of his shoulder.

He jolted suddenly. “Oh shit, tell me you’re on the Pill.”

“Better,” Charlotte chuckled softly. “Menopause.”

“Ah, right. Excellent!”

They lay still and peaceful in their silence for a few moments, until Charlotte finally sat up and looked at the clothes strewn across the living room floor.

“That was fun! Sex in the living room. Cool.”

“Yes,” agreed Oliver, and he pulled her back down to kiss her. “And what shall we do next?”

“Next? Well I’ll take a shower and go to work–books don’t keep themselves–and then I’ll come home and call my kid. What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll go back to New York obviously.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” She sat up again, but he put hand on her arm to stop her from standing.

“And when will you come to New York?”

“What?” He might have told her someone had died, as far as her stomach was concerned. It dropped sickeningly and her face went pale.

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