Page 9 of Fifth Avenue Flirt

“Are you trying to kill me?” He dips down and claims a kiss. “You feel so good, so tight like that. You’re going to make me hard again.”

My eyelids flicker closed at the idea that he might fuck me again tonight. I don’t know if I could take it again. But I know I want it. I really want it. There’s not anything I want more in this moment.

I let my hands roam over his shoulders, his torso. His skin is hard and hot and I want somehow to have him closer to me.

He pulls out of me, deals with the condom, and then scoops me up, off the countertop.

I squeal. I can’t remember the last time a man ever carried me anywhere.

He spins me round. “Look at the mess we made.”

I blush as I see the streaks of wetness all over the steel. It’s embarrassing, but it’s also kind of hot. Even hotter that he likes it.

He growls against my ear and strides out of the kitchen.

“You want to shower?” he asks, as we head down a hallway and into a bedroom.

I shake my head. I don’t want to get rid of any evidence of tonight. Not yet anyway. I like the idea that I must smell of him. And that he has my DNA all over him.

I don’t want to wash it away just yet.

He nods and he pulls the covers off the bed and sets me down on the mattress. For a moment, I think he’s going to leave, and panic hits me in the solar plexus, but he rounds the bed and climbs in on the other side. “You okay?” he asks, as he pulls me against him.

Again, it seems like such an intimate thing for a man to do. It’s like we’ve known each other forever.

I nod, and he presses a kiss to my forehead.

Are we sleeping now? Because I’m not ready for sleep.

“I haven’t known you very long,” he says, “but I’m pretty sure you’re not often this quiet.”

I sigh. “You’re right. But I don’t often have two orgasms in the space of thirty minutes. I’m getting used to…this.”

“I like that I can make you come.”

“You like to talk,” I say.

“During sex, you mean?” he asks.

I shrug.

“I like to know what you like. I want to have a good time, and I want you to have a good time. Sex is always best when it’s a two-way street.”

“That makes sense.”

His erection grows between us, and I glance down.

“You can ignore that,” he says.

“What if I don’t want to ignore it?”

He groans. “Fuck, Avril. Everything you say and do makes me hard. How do you manage that?”

Okay, so I get that male physiology is hardwired for sex. Some men look at a pothole and get hard, but hearing that I do it for Ben feels good. And he definitely does it for me. I thought he was just some cheesy flirt. Who knew he had a gigantic cock and knows how to use it?

I hook my leg over his hip and shift myself toward him.

He groans again, and grabs a condom.