Page 86 of After Midnight

“I’m gonna cum way too fast if you ride me,” he says.

But that just makes me smile. I switch positions with him, then push him back so he’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the armchair. In the warm light cast by the lamp, his suntanned skin gleams with perspiration.

“That’s not allowed,” I say. “You told me you’d make me cum twice, remember?”

He tips his head back to the ceiling, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Rem . . .”

I ease myself into his lap, my knees cushioned by the soft rug as I kneel over his hard cock. But before I can sink on, he grabs my hips, stopping me.

“I’ve got condoms in my room,” he says.

I shake my head. “I want to feel you raw.”

He’s got a stricken expression now. “Oh, fuck.”

Then I sink slowly onto him, and his fingers tighten around my hips. He lets out a strangled sound, and I love how unhinged he already looks. I want to be the only one who can make him feel like this. I want him to think of me every time he’s hard, every time he wakes up alone. I want to be the only woman he sees when his eyes are closed.

Flexing my muscles, I tighten my cunt around him, and he whispers, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Don’t you have anything else to say?” I ask, slowly gliding up and down his length. I wrap my hands around the back of his head, making him look at me as I ride.

“I . . .” He’s still grabbing my hips, and his hands tighten for a moment as he clenches his jaw, as if fighting back his need to cum. Then he relaxes, just a bit, and says, “I can’t think straight right now.”

My lips curve up. Slowly, I lean back, bracing one hand on Seb’s strong thigh and slipping the other between our bodies. He glances down, watching as I touch myself, my fingers working gently at my overstimulated clit.

“Fuck,” he whispers again.

I let my head fall back, my eyes closing. I circle my clit with a practiced touch as I sink deep onto Seb’s cock, settling all my weight atop him. He stretches me so fucking wide, and his tip hits that spot that makes my toes curl. Once I’ve got him there, right where I want him, I start moving my hips forward and back, using him to massage that spot deep inside me.

And I feel another orgasm starting to build.

Before he made me cum twice, I wasn’t sure I could do it. Cumming once with a partner was a feat when half the men I’ve fucked had no clue what they were doing—and weren’t willing to learn or ask what to do to make it better. But he makes it look easy. And he never rushes me, never makes me feel like I need to perform sexual pleasure for him to make him feel good.

Suddenly, I find emotion rising inside my chest, realization spreading through my body like ink through water.

Seb never asks me to perform. All he wants is me—the real me. Remi. Not Mirage. And I’m addicted to it, to feeling seen and wanted for exactly who I am and not the persona I wear.

My fingers tighten on his thigh as I start to circle my clit faster. The orgasm is rising higher now, a storm surge rushing in, wanting to sweep me away.

“Rem,” Seb says, voice tight, fingers gripping me hard. But I don’t open my eyes. “Rem, I—”

I’m almost there. I start to ride him faster, my cunt soaking wet. It makes sucking sounds as I fuck him, combined with his barely restrained moans. Just a little more. Just a little faster. And—

I gasp, my muscles pulsing, my entire body heaving with a convulsion as my orgasm crashes through me. At the same time, Seb tries to lift me off his dick, but I refuse to budge, and I open my eyes, wanting to see the expression on his face as he unloads inside me.

And it’s a sight I’ll never forget. Jaw clenched, eyes squeezed tight, the muscles in his throat pulling so taut that his veins bulge from the sides of his neck.

Deep inside, I feel a burst of heat, and it makes me moan. I clench my muscles again, squeezing his dick, as if I can trap his cum inside me, hold every last drop.

Seb moans louder, hips lifting, and he drives his dick into me one last time as another explosion of heat paints my insides. Then he collapses back against the armchair, breathing hard, and his eyes slowly open.

The moment his gaze meets mine, his eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

My body is exhausted, every muscle completely spent. I slowly lean forward, pressing my lips to Seb’s. As I pull away, I whisper, “It’s okay. I’m not ovulating.”

He looks confused. The expression on his face—like boyish uncertainty—makes me laugh.

“It means it’s unlikely I’ll get pregnant.”