Had she been another girl, I’d have let her suck my cock and then finished myself off balls-deep inside her, but Addison was different. There was something about her that told me this probably wouldn’t be the last time I saw her.
She needed me, whether she knew it or not.
I peeled myself away, leaving her panting and breathless and probably relieved to get a break from fighting off her orgasms for a minute, and searched for the foil packet I’d set on the nightstand earlier.
Sheathing my engorged cock, I readied myself at her wet and ready entrance. “Are you ready, lovely?”
She lifted her head toward me, her eyes seeming confused even in the dark. “I didn’t realize this was going to happen so quickly.”
“Do you want more foreplay?” I asked. “I could let you suck my cock, but I’d much rather bury it deep inside this pretty little pussy of yours.”
Her head fell back into the soft pillow and she nodded. “Do whatever you want to me, Wilder.”
I wasn’t a man whore by any stretch of the imagination, but most of the girls I’d been with were so fake in the sack it took everything I had to keep my dick hard. They’d enthusiastically suck my cock like it was a fucking lollipop and then scream out my name as if they were auditioning for a goddamned porno. Addison was real. All she did was be herself.
And it made me hard as fuck.
I pressed the head of my cock toward her soft entrance and inserted myself inch by inch until I was all the way in. She felt like heaven, like a teenage boy’s wet dream and a night at the Playboy Mansion all rolled into one. If pussies came in luxury models, hers was the Rolls Royce. Tight and soft. Wet and inviting.
One thrust. Two thrusts. Slow at first, then building. Each thrust brought me closer to the brink, much to my dismay. I could last for hours in any other woman I’d bedded, but not Addison.
I forced myself to think of other things. Baseball. The stock market. Smog. But they kept coming back to her and how fucking amazing she felt on my dick. Her hips wriggled and bucked beneath me, meeting me thrust for thrust, and she gripped onto the tie each time I hit her wall.
“Wilder,” she panted. “Oh, my God…”
My hand traveled up her breasts, a pert nipple tickling my palm, and then landed under her jaw. My thumb traced over her fuckable pink mouth. I’d have to know what it felt like another time.
I fucked her as long as I could, filling my mind with as many unsexy thoughts as I could in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. She bucked hard against me as sexy moans and expletives flew from her lips, so I had to correct her. “No, lovely. I’m in control.”
“But I can’t fight…” she breathed, her words trailing as she attempted to obey me.
“Trust me. I know what you need,” I said in a low whisper.
I didn’t want to pull out of her. I wanted to stay in her forever, bask myself in her musky arousal, fuck her all night long, round after round. I barely knew her, and yet she was one of the most fascinating people I’d ever met. I’d never met a girl so prim and proper and perfect who quietly preferred to be tied up and fucked like that. I supposed it made sense though.
Addison fought it long and hard, but after a while her body gave up the fight, practically convulsing as she bit her lip to keep from screaming. I released myself as she wriggled and bucked against my cock.
The second she caught her breath she glanced at the nightstand toward the alarm clock. “Shit. I have to go. I have to be up in six hours.”
I raked my hand through my hair. “Seriously?”
She just came all over my cock, and that was the first thing she had to say when it was over and done with?
“Untie me,” she said, immediately returning to pre-fuck Addison. I tugged on the strap of the tie, unraveling it. She rubbed her wrists and scooted off the bed while I enjoyed the view.
She was a true hourglass: curved hips, whittled waist, round, natural breasts. She could’ve given Marilyn Monroe a run for her money, back in the day. If I had to guess, she probably didn’t know how sexy she was, or it was so removed from her perfect list of priorities that it didn’t matter.
She rifled around the room, searching for the bits and pieces of the clothing she’d shown up in.
“You mind calling me a cab?” she asked as she grabbed a sparkling stiletto from the floor.
Women like her, the workaholic types, only gave their sexuality a thought when they realized how much their girlfriends were getting laid or when they were lying awake at night thinking about how good it would feel to have hot sex right about then. I imagined that was how Addison found me.
Admittedly, I was doing the same thing. Looking for a one-night stand. An innocent hook-up. A beautiful girl to bury my dick in for an hour or so. But now that I’d had her once, I wanted to have her again.
I pulled my jeans back on and flipped on the light. She was all dressed, save for the torn underwear lying on the ground.
She stepped toward me, as if she didn’t know how to say goodbye.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said, her eyes shifting nervously. “For the record.”
“I figured.”
“Thanks for tonight,” she said in a low husk with the tiniest hint of a southern drawl. “I needed it.”
Her pretty blue eyes washed over me, as if she wanted to get one last glance at me before she left. She wrapped her cream coat around her and secured it with a shiny, glass button. She looked just as beautiful leaving as she had when she’d arrived. The flush on her cheeks were the only sign that she’d just been fucked. Other than that, she was pure elegance.