They'd moved to the bed at some point. He didn't remember deciding to. One minute they were on the hardwood and the next she was pulling him up and they were falling onto the mattress and the sheets were cold against his overheated skin and she said "finally" like the bed had been insulted by their absence.
Twenty minutes. Maybe more. He'd lost track.
She was on her side, head propped on her hand, looking at him. The catsuit was in a heap by the window. Her hair was wrecked, tangled, half of it stuck to her neck. She had a red mark on her hip from the hardwood and she kept pressing her thumb into it.
They'd been talking. Real talk. She'd asked where he was from and he'd said "far away" and she'd said "everyone in New York is from far away" and he'd told her about the flophouse and the bar job and the bodega water cases and she'd laughed at the wrong parts and he'd watched her face while she did it.
She'd told him her name. First name only.
"Felicia."
"Troy."
"I know. I looked you up after the vault."
"You won't find much."
"I didn't find anything. Which is why I'm still here."
She reached across the gap between them and her fingers walked down his stomach. Idle. Following the line of muscle below his navel, tracing the crease of his hip. Her fingers went lower, brushing against his cock, and she stopped.
Looked at him.
"Already?"
He was hard. Half, getting there fast under her fingers. The system. The recovery was faster than a normal body had any right to, and her proximity was doing the rest. Her hand wrapped around him, loose, testing, and the touch after twenty minutes of cool-down sent blood south fast enough to make his head swim.
"That's- you were just-" She stroked him, slow, watching it stiffen in her grip. "That's not normal."
"Side effect."
"Of what?"
"Being lucky."
Her hand tightened. She stroked him base to tip, deliberate, her callused palm dragging along the shaft. She studied his face while she worked him. Her eyes narrow, her head tilted, trying to figure out what he was. Slower than round one.
"Mm." She let go. Rolled onto her back and stretched, arms above her head, back arching off the mattress. Her breasts shifted with the stretch and settled. She looked at him sideways. "You went down on me for about ten seconds in that whole thing."
"You were busy. Sitting on my face wasn't really on the menu."
"It's on the menu now."
She spread her legs. Her knee fell to the side and she looked at him with her eyebrows raised. Waiting.
He moved between her thighs.
He could smell her before he was close. Sex and sweat and her, the specific salt of her skin, and the scent got thicker as he kissed down her stomach. The muscles in her abdomen jumped under his lips. He could feel the heat coming off her before his mouth was anywhere near.
He kissed her inner thigh. The skin was soft there, softer than anywhere he'd touched tonight, and still damp from before. She twitched. His mouth moved higher. The other thigh. Her hips shifted on the mattress, angling toward him.
"You're stalling."
"I'm getting there."
"Get there faster."
He pressed his mouth against her.
Wet. She was still wet from before, from him, and the taste was salt and copper and her and the heat against his mouth made his cock press hard into the mattress. He licked, flat tongue, base to clit, and she inhaled sharply through her nose and her thigh tensed against his cheek.
He did it again. Slower. His tongue parting her, pressing in, tasting every fold. She was swollen from the first round, sensitive, and when his tongue found her clit she flinched and grabbed a fistful of sheet.
"Careful- I'm still- from before-"
He was careful. For about ten seconds. Then he sealed his lips around her clit and sucked gently and her back came off the bed.
"Ah- fuck-"
Her hand found the back of his head. Fingers threading into his hair, gripping, pulling him closer. Her thigh came up over his shoulder, the weight settling warm against his back, and the angle opened her up and he could taste more, deeper, his tongue sliding down and pressing inside her while his nose nudged her clit.
A sound from her chest. Low. Guttural. She hadn't made that one during round one.
He worked his tongue inside her, slow, curling, and she was hot and swollen and she clenched around his tongue the way she'd clenched around his cock. He pulled back. Licked up to her clit. Circled it with the tip of his tongue, light, fast, and her hips jerked. Read the latest chapters at NovelPing.
"There- right there- don't- ah-"
Her thighs were closing around his head. He could feel the muscles shaking in them. Her hand in his hair was pulling hard enough to sting and the pain made him grind against the mattress, his cock trapped under him, aching. He pressed his tongue flat on her clit and moved his jaw, working his mouth against her, and the wet sounds filled the quiet bedroom.
She was riding his face. Her hips rolling up, grinding against his mouth, chasing the pressure, and he let her set the pace. His hands slid under her ass, lifting her, giving her leverage, and she used it. Her thighs locked around his head. Her heels dug into his back. She was grinding hard enough to smear her wetness across his chin, his cheeks, and he could feel it dripping down his jaw.
"Nn- ah- god- right- there-"
Broken. Each word on its own breath. He could barely hear her through her thighs pressed against his ears. He found the spot that made her breathing stop. Pressed. Circled. Her stomach muscles jumped and her back arched and her grip in his hair went from pulling to crushing.
She was biting her lip. He couldn't see it from this angle but he could hear her breathing change, that catch, the held inhale.
He sealed his lips around her clit. Sucked. Tongue flicking fast against it while his lips held the pressure.
She came with her thighs locked around his head and his name breaking apart between vowels. Her hips bucked off the bed, grinding against his mouth, and he held on, kept his tongue moving, riding the contractions. Her thighs squeezed so hard his ears rang. Her hand twisted in his hair. Her stomach flexed in hard visible pulses and her feet were drumming against his back.
He didn't stop. She was still clenching, still twitching, and he lightened the pressure but kept his tongue moving, slow circles, and each one made her body jerk.
"Stop- I can't- stop-"
Her hand pushing his head away. Her hips pushing toward him.
He gave her one more long slow lick, base to clit, pressing hard, and she shuddered from her toes to her scalp and her thighs finally unlocked and fell open and she lay there panting.
He didn't give her time to recover.
He pulled her toward him. Hands on her hips, dragging her to the edge of the bed until her ass was hanging off and her legs were dangling. She was too wrung out to resist. Her eyes opened, hazy.
"What are you-"
He stood between her legs. His cock was hard enough to hurt, straining, slick at the tip where he'd been grinding against the mattress. He positioned the head against her. She was drenched. Swollen. The lips parted around him without pressure and the heat hit him before he'd pushed an inch.
He pushed in.
She gasped. Her whole body clenched. Tighter than before, swollen from the orgasm, and the friction was intense, her walls gripping and releasing in residual pulses. He sank in slow, watching her face. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened. Two inches: her jaw set. Three: eyes closing. Four: breath pushed through teeth. Five: her hand found his forearm and squeezed hard enough to leave marks. All the way in: a whimper, high and thin, and her heels hooked behind his thighs.
Every nerve in her was still firing. He could feel it in the way she clenched around him in involuntary spasms, her body still coming down while he was pushing back up.
"Slow," she said. "Go slow. I'm still-"
He went slow.
Long strokes. All the way out until only the head was inside, then back in, steady, the full length of him filling her. Standing gave him depth he hadn't had on the floor. She felt it. Her mouth opened on each inward stroke and a sound came out, quiet, breathy, matching his pace.
"Mm. Mm. Nn."
He leaned forward. His hands on the mattress on either side of her, his chest lowering to hers. The angle changed. Deeper. His weight settling onto her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down until they were chest to chest, mouth to mouth, breathing each other's air. He could feel her breasts compressed between them, her nipples hard against his skin. Her heels pulled him in on each thrust and he could feel every inch of the slide, her walls slick and swollen.
He kissed her neck. She turned her head, giving him the full length of it, and he pressed his open mouth to her pulse and felt it hammering. Her skin tasted like sweat and the last traces of perfume and he sucked on the tendon and she clenched hard around him.
"Ah-"
He stayed there. Mouth on her neck, slow deep strokes, his hips rolling into hers. She was making sounds he hadn't heard yet. Small. Quiet. Sounds that belonged in the dark, in the space between his mouth and her throat.
She pulled his face up and kissed him. His mouth still tasted like her and she kissed him anyway, deep, her tongue finding his, and she made a sound into the kiss, barely there, a hum that broke in the middle, and her fingers tightened on the back of his neck.
Her legs tightened around him. Her breathing quickened against his mouth.
"Harder."
He gave her harder. His hips snapping forward, the bed frame rocking, and the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. She broke the kiss to gasp and her head tipped back and she was looking at the ceiling with her mouth open and her eyes blank.
"Ah- ah- yes- there-"
He pulled out.
She blinked. "What-"
He flipped her. Hands on her hips, turning her, and she went with it, onto her stomach, then up on her hands and knees when his hand pressed her lower back. She looked over her shoulder at him, hair falling across her face, mouth open, eyes glassy, and her back was arching before he touched her.
"Don't tease me right now, I was-"
He pushed in from behind.
Deeper. Tighter. She groaned into the mattress and the sound vibrated through the springs. Her face dropped forward into the pillow. Her back dipped, her ass pressing back against his hips, and he could see the line of her spine and the dimples above her ass and his cock sliding into her, glistening, disappearing.
He thrust. Slow. Pulling back to the head. Pushing in deep. Each stroke made her hands fist tighter in the sheets. The pillow muffled her sounds but he could hear them, pitched higher than before, breaking on every push. This chapter was taken from novelping(.)com without permission.
"Ah- nn- god- deeper-"
He gave her deeper. His hands on her hips, pulling her back onto him while he thrust forward, and the double impact made her arms give out. She collapsed to her elbows, face in the pillow, ass up. His cock was sliding in and out of her, wet and glistening, and the squelch on each thrust was louder than her muffled sounds.
He reached around. His fingers found her clit. Swollen, slick, and she flinched when he touched it.
"Don't- I'll- if you do that I'm going to-"
He circled. Light. Fast. His fingers on her clit while his cock filled her from behind and her sentence fell apart.
"AH- fuck- fuck- I'm- nn- please- ah-"
She came hard. Harder than the first time. Her face buried in the pillow, screaming into it, her fists twisting the sheets until the fitted sheet pulled off the corner of the mattress. Her walls clamped around him in waves, squeezing, releasing, violent, and her body was shaking. Her knees sliding on the sheets. He held her up by the hips while she came apart.
Her arms couldn't hold her. She went flat on the mattress, face turned sideways, mouth open, breathing in short broken gasps. He was still inside her. Still hard. Her body pulsing around him in fading contractions.
He pulled out.
She whimpered at the emptiness. He could see her, swollen, wet, glistening, flushed pink, clenching around nothing. He stroked himself. Three pulls. Four. Watching her. The wreck of her hair on the pillow. Her back rising and falling with each breath. The sheen of sweat along her spine.
He came across her lower back.
Warm. The first hit landed on the dip of her spine and she flinched and then went still. He watched it stripe her skin, on her lower back, on the curve above her ass. His hand slowed. The last pulse dripped onto the small of her back and she lay there, breathing, and the mess on her skin caught the lamplight.
He sat on the edge of the bed. His legs were shaking. His hands were shaking.
She didn't move for a while. Her face turned toward him on the pillow, eyes closed, mouth swollen, the flush on her cheeks fading. The cum on her back cooling. She hadn't wiped it off or asked for anything to wipe it with.
She opened one eye.
"You're keeping up better than I expected."
"Motivated learner."
She laughed. He hadn't heard that one before. It cracked halfway through and turned into a groan when she shifted and her body reminded her what it had been through.
"There's a towel," she said. "Bathroom. Through the- just-" She waved a hand in a direction that might have been the bathroom or might have been the general concept of hygiene. Her arm dropped back to the mattress.
He got the towel. Wet it with warm water. Came back. She was on her stomach, exactly where he'd left her, and he cleaned her back with the warm cloth and she hummed, low, and her eyes stayed closed.
"Don't get ideas," she said. "This is maintenance, not round three."
"Is there going to be a round three?"
"Ask me in twenty minutes."
He dropped the towel on the floor. Lay down beside her. The sheets were a disaster, half-pulled off, damp in patches. She rolled onto her side, facing him, and her knee bumped against his thigh.
"Where did you learn that."
"Which part."
"The part where you-" She made a vague gesture toward her lower half. "The mouth thing. Before."
"You'll have to be more specific."
"You're an asshole."
"I've been told."
She poked his chest with one finger. "You're also better than you should be for a guy who sleeps in a flophouse and can't afford a phone."
"I've been told that too."
She studied him. Quiet. Her finger resting over his heartbeat. Her eyes on his face, reading him the way she read buildings before she broke into them. Slower than that. More careful.
"You're going to be trouble," she said.
He didn't answer. Her eyes were closing. Her finger curled against his chest and she tucked her face against the pillow and her breathing went slow and deep.
He stared at the ceiling. A crack ran from the light fixture to the wall, forking at a water stain. Her apartment was nicer than his by about eight hundred percent. He could hear traffic through the broken window. The city didn't shut up.
Her LP tracker hadn't changed since round one. Still registered. Still Curious. But his stats felt different. Looser. His body settling into the gains, the reflexes sharpening, the stamina holding. The gap was getting wider and he could feel it.
Her breathing was steady against his chest. Her leg hooked over his.
Twenty minutes, she'd said.