I murmured something as his hand delved between my thighs and began to make direct contact with my clit. The man was insatiable. I had met my equal. And he had to ruin it all by falling in love with me.
I woke up to noise. Ugh. I had a slight headache from too much wine and not enough sleep. My thighs felt like I’d ridden my exercise bike for twenty miles. And my pussy, well-worn and pummeled. Big time. As I tried to get out of my bed, I felt as if every muscle had been stretched to its capacity and then some. Jesus, even my jaw ached. Keenan was a man that left a lasting impression.
I yawned as I raised my arms over my head, attempting a few yoga poses to get my blood flowing. Fuck that. No yoga plow posing for me this morning. I’d already been plowed like a Kansas farm gearing up for spring planting.
I noticed Keenan’s shirt and pants still lying on the chair. What the hell? Was he strolling through my house naked? I grabbed a fresh pair of panties and threw on his shirt. He was so tall it came down to mid thigh on me. I decided against a bra. Why? Because if that man could strut without his clothes—God help me—I could go sans bra. I padded to the kitchen. Fuck me. No, on second thought, don’t fuck me. He stood in the kitchen in front of the stove with his back to me, wearing only his striped briefs. I had a sudden sense of déjà vu. I’d come upon Latch in this very kitchen. Thank the good Lord Haven’s boy toy had donned pants, but if I recalled the incident correctly, that’s all he had on.
“Good morning, baby,” Keenan said as he turned around to greet me. He held a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a spatula in the other. He really loved that particular kitchen tool. “Want some coffee? Take mine.”
Seriously, could he be any sweeter? Bastard. I snatched the mug from his hand, praying the coffee might suppress the continual building thump in my brain. I’d been over-fucked. I wondered if you could die from too many orgasms. Although, it wasn’t the worst way I could go.
I was a glutton for punishment. I just had to let my eyes drift to his dick. Damn. As soon as I did that, it was as if my stare had penetrated his briefs and caused them to tent. I swear I tried to look away, but I was spellbound, so I watched. I thought I had power with a cock in my mouth. Evidently, my eyes were magic too. Double-crossing. Treacherous. Vagina. I felt heat spike in my lower half. That familiar throbbing hit me right between the lips, and not the ones I was currently pursing. Exactly how was it possible that in my weakened condition, I wanted him—and judging from his present state, he felt the same?
“Fuck the eggs,” he remarked as he tossed the spatula on the counter and pulled me into him.
He gently tweaked a nipple as he pressed his erection into me. God, there was that dry humping again. He languidly traced his tongue across my bottom lip as he pushed forward into my mouth. The kiss was without urgency, slow and gentle. As he continued, his hand palmed the front of my sex. I felt so hot; I was surprised my pussy didn’t scorch him. He blew a soft moan into my mouth while I ghosted my fingers across his crotch. He immediately pulled the polo over my head and then proceeded to push my panties down to my ankles. I kicked them off as I watched him tug off his briefs.
Yeah, still beautiful and huge.
“You know it’s dangerous to cook with an apparatus that big,” I said, giggling as I fondled him. “I meant to ask if you’ve measured it. I know you have.”
“Nine and a half inches.”
Mama. “Did I ever tell you 9 1/2 Weeks was my favorite movie? You appear to have an inch for every week,” I said, chuckling. “What about the eggs?”
His eyes rolled back into his head. “Yeah, well, the only thing I plan on scrambling right now is you. Assume the position.”
Excuse me? What is this, fuck me boot camp?
I thought maybe a little savor and lick on both parts. I sucked him; he licked me. And we were both content. But fucking? Oh, I didn’t know about that.
I eyed his cock. My pussy sounded the alarm. I had yet to distinguish if that throbbing meant yes, yes, yes or run like hell and guard your loins. I stood there naked and watched him fold his arms across his chest. He definitely meant fucking. No foreplay for breakfast. Shit.
“You know, I was kind of thinking maybe a light snack or, in your case, a big one,” I quipped. “I mean, seriously, we didn’t go to sleep until dawn. I’m not complaining, but five orgasms. I’d say it was pretty good for a woman of my seasoned age.” I was now leaning toward grabbing his shirt off the floor.
“It was seven. Orgasms. I’m young and virile and British.” He snorted.
I hadn’t thought about that. I’d never been with anyone younger, ever. I mean, I wasn’t old, but he was eleven years younger. I wondered if there was such a thing as sex years, kind of like dog years.
“Wait, what? British… what does being British have to do with fucking?” I snickered.
He moved in closer and bent his head until his lips were at my ear. “We Brits take our fucking seriously. We have higher standards.”
I pushed him back, laughing. “Bullshit. You’re just a typical man who wants to get laid.”
“This is true, but I am extremely OCD when it comes to figures. Everything must be even numbers, even orgasms. Now turn around and grab the counter.”
Now my sex was screaming. I couldn’t wait until he was inside me. I bent slightly, placing my hands on the marble as his hand slapped my ass.
“Ow, motherfucker, that hurt.”
“You know, instead of a curse jar, I think every time you say the F-word, I’ll just slap your ass.”
“So I get a free pass on bastard, cock, pussy, and shit?”
Keenan began chuckling as his fingers slid between the crack of my ass. I suddenly tensed. I enjoyed anal occasionally. But with his cock—oh, hell no! I finally felt his fingers slide into my pussy as he used his index and thumb to rotate my clit.
“You’re so wet. I love the sound it makes when I slide my fingers in and out.”
Any other time, that remark might have embarrassed me, but I was gearing up for a mini orgasm. As I pushed against his hand, he suddenly withdrew his fingers. I wasn’t at all gratified by this empty sensation. I’d been on the cusp of a release, and now, zip, zero—nada. My head slumped as I sighed.
Keenan pushed into me with one thrust that momentarily stunned me. In this position, his cock had descended so deeply it stole my breath. He began to undulate his hips with every stroke. I felt pressure as he pushed into me. His teeth nipped at my neck as his arms corralled me. With every slap of our bodies, there was an agonizing tingle, a tortuous ache, and an awareness of every single sensation coursing through my body.
He scared the hell out of me. The appeal of those sensations made me feel clingy. I loathed that emotion. I never wanted to be one of those women. The ones who decided their lives weren’t complete without a man. I was happy Haven had found Latch. After what she endured, she deserved love. And no matter what a prick he’d been in the past, the one thing I knew without a doubt was he loved her. But that would never be me.
I had to admit it was somewhat exhilarating that one of the world’s hottest male models coveted me. I was still having a hard time understanding that logic. Haven had always thought it was the chase with Latch; maybe those two men had that in common.
I noticed Keenan’s hand slip from the countertop and then grip my hip. My pussy began to clench his swelling flesh.
“Fuck. I love it when your muscles tighten around my dick and squeeze me like a vise.” He groaned as he pumped faster.