Chapter 109: Hotel Sex II
When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and slick. A tiny drop of white clung to the corner of her mouth.
She licked it away.
Then she smiled.
"Was that okay?" she asked.
He pulled her up. Kissed her.
"That was more than okay."
She nestled against his chest, and for a moment they just breathed together. The city hummed outside the windows. The sheets were tangled around their legs. Her necklace pressed cool against his skin.
"I’m not tired anymore," she murmured.
He laughed. "No?"
"No." She tilted her head up. Her eyes were bright. Hungry. "Round two?"
His body was already responding. Already stirring against her thigh.
"Round two," he agreed.
She rolled onto her back, pulling him with her. This time, when he positioned himself above her, there was no hesitation. No uncertainty. Just the heat of her thighs parting for him and the slick, waiting warmth between them.
He pushed his dick into her slowly.
Inch by inch. Feeling every ridge, every pulse, every gasp that escaped her lips. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Her eyes fluttered shut, then open, then shut again.
"Look at me," he said.
She did.
He pushed deeper. Her mouth fell open. Her hips rose to meet him, and suddenly he was fully sheathed inside her, buried to the hilt in tight, wet heat.
"Sean." His name was a prayer. "Move."
He did.
He set a rhythm that was slow and deep, each thrust deliberate, each withdrawal a loss he immediately remedied. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her heels pressed into his lower back, pulling him closer, deeper. The sound of their bodies meeting—skin on skin, wet and rhythmic—filled the room.
Her head tilted back. The necklace caught the light. Her breasts rose with each gasping breath.
He leaned down, caught one nipple in his mouth, and she cried out. Her inner walls clenched around him, and he nearly lost control right there.
"Close," she gasped. "Sean, I’m close."
He reached between them. Found her clit with his thumb. Circled it in time with his thrusts.
She shattered.
Her orgasm ripped through her, and he felt every pulse, every contraction, every wave of pleasure that milked his length. Her body arched beneath him, her mouth open in a silent scream.
He followed her over the edge. His release surged into her, hot and endless, and he buried his face in her neck and groaned her name like it was the only word he knew.
They lay tangled together in the aftermath. Sweat cooling on their skin. Hearts hammering in tandem.
"Sean."
"Hm?"
"I need more."
"Give me a minute," he said.
She bit her lip. "I don’t think I can wait that long."
Her hand slid down his stomach. Lower. Found him already stirring again.
Her eyes widened. "Already?"
He rolled them. Suddenly she was on top, straddling his hips, her hair wild around her shoulders. The city lights framed her like a halo.
"Already," he confirmed.
She positioned herself above him. Sank down. This time there was no preamble, no gentle exploration. Just the sudden, breath-stealing fullness of her taking him inside her body.
Her head fell back. Her hips began to move.
And Sean watched his Olivia ride him with the same absolute presence she brought to every stage she’d ever stood on—confident, commanding, breathtaking.
His hands found her hips. He thrust up to meet her every downward stroke. The rhythm built, faster, harder, the bed creaking beneath them.
"Sean—" Her voice cracked. "I’m going to—"
"Let go," he commanded.
She did.
Her orgasm crashed through her, and she screamed—actually screamed—his name to the ceiling. The sound of it, raw and unguarded and his, pushed him into his own release. He emptied himself inside her with a force that left him shaking.
She collapsed onto his chest. They lay there, panting, clinging, neither of them quite believing what had just happened.
Few Minutes passed.
Olivia stirred first. Raised her head. Looked at him with eyes that were sleepy and satisfied and still somehow hungry.
"Sean."
"Mhm?"
"How many times do you think we can do that before the sun comes up?"
He looked at the clock. Three in the morning. Hours yet until dawn.
"Lets continue " Said Sean
Before Olivia could move to get into position, he shifted. His hands found her waist, and in one fluid motion he rolled them both onto their sides. She let out a small gasp of surprise, her back now pressed against his chest, her body fitting against his like they’d been designed for exactly this arrangement.
"Change of plans," he murmured against her ear.
Her breath caught. "What kind of change?"
His arm slid beneath her head, cradling her. His other hand traced down the curve of her hip, her thigh, then back up again. Slow. Deliberate. He felt the goosebumps rise on her skin wherever his fingers traveled.
Sean kissed a spot right behind her ear. Her breath stuttered. His lips traveled down the column of her throat, tasting salt and skin and the faint sweetness of whatever perfume still lingered from dinner. The necklace was there, cool against his mouth, and he kissed beneath it, above it, around it.
Her hand reached back, found his hip, pulled him closer.
"Sean."
Sean’s hand, still tracing patterns on her thigh, moved inward. Higher. His fingers found her still slick, still swollen from their previous rounds. She was impossibly wet. The evidence of his release from earlier mixed with her own arousal, warm and viscous against his fingertips.
She whimpered when he touched her.
"Still sensitive?" he asked.
"Yes. No. I don’t know." She pressed back against him, her hips shifting, seeking more pressure. "Don’t stop."
His fingers parted her folds, slow and gentle. He circled her clit with the lightest possible touch, barely grazing the sensitive nub. Her whole body jerked. Her hand clamped down on his hip, nails digging in.
"Oh god."
"That’s it." His voice was a rumble against her shoulder blade. "Just feel it."