Page 9 of Plenty Of…

Placing my finger on his lips, I stop him from finishing his sentence, and lower my head until our mouths are a finger apart. “I think we should talk later, Forbes.” My body is ready, and as much as I want to talk about what happened, I want him inside me more. Talking can wait. I move my finger from his lips just in time for his mouth to find mine, and it’s the start of a storm so powerful, it razes everything in its wake. We’re on the bed a moment later, furiously trying to rid me of my leggings, and Forbes of his jeans. When we’re both naked and hot and growing infinitely more crazed, I tell him I have a condom in my bedside drawer. I haven’t had to use them in months, no one has been in my bed, but I get a sick kind of pleasure when he shoots me a look of discontent. “You didn’t expect me to be celibate, did you?”

His growly response makes me laugh, but it dies a quick death when he’s spreading my legs and kneeling between them while he slides a condom on. Even at forty-six, his body is beautiful. Toned, sculpted, a sprinkle of chest hair that wasn’t there ten years ago. Oh, and I can’t forget his dick. It took some real finesse on his part to get me primed for him the first time we had sex, simply because — as cliched as it sounds — he’s so big. Thick, from the root to the tip, a vein on the underside that is impossible not to feel. At the time, I didn’t know how to position myself to accommodate him, but I’m not a virgin anymore, and I have had sexual partners since Forbes. I plant my feet as wide as my hips will let me, and watch with rapture as Forbes moves closer and slides the head of his dick between my lips, and down to my entrance, and back up.

He’s attention is on what he’s doing, and my attention is on him. I hiss when he presses the tip into me, wholly aware that it’s been a while for me, and that my vibe is certainly no match in length or in girth.

“Okay?” he asks, looking up from beneath his lashes.

I nod, and bite my lip. He does it again, only deeper, and the feel of him makes my breath stutter. He toys with me until he’s satisfied, and impossibly hard, and then lowers his body on top of mine while thrusting his hips. Brushing his lips over mine, he thrusts hard, and, “Ah,” I cry out. He kisses me, giving me a moment, and once I have my arms around his neck, his full weight bearing down on me, I tuck my knees against his sides. He lifts his head, and watches me, my face.

“Forbes,” I whisper. “You can fuck me now.”

My candor surprises him, and he replies, “You have a filthy mouth.”

I grin. “I know.”

Thankfully, that’s where our talking stops. Forbes moves in and out of me, slowly at first, with caution, but when I start clawing at his back, and biting his shoulder, he goes faster, harder, until the most primal sounds fill the room. Skin-on-skin, heavy panting, my mewls, his grunts. It’s hedonistic, really, and even the sound of him thrusting is a turn-on.

“C’mon, Forbes,” I bite out. “I need to fucking come.” And good Lord, I do. But Forbes is dragging it out. “Make me come,” I beg, digging my nails into his neck. My breasts bounce between us, and if I were to angle my head just right, I’d be able to see him disappearing inside my body.

“Say it again,” he breathes, resting his sweaty forehead against mine. “Ask me again, Avril. Say it.”

He punctuates his request by increasing his tempo, and with my legs the way they are, his pubic bone is right up against my clit. His hand squeezes my thigh, and he tucks his head into my neck. He bottoms out every time, and I crave the brutal way he takes me. Fucks me. Pushes himself inside me.

“Make me come,” I whisper. “Please.”

I’m not one to beg, and usually I’m the one in control during a sexual encounter, but I’m so close —

The explosion catches me off-guard, and I throw my head back, succumbing to the way my body quakes while Forbes keeps his pace up. “Ohhh,” I moan, my orgasm overwhelming. It’s too much, and, “Forbes, I can’t.” It comes out strangled, but really, it’s too much. He wants what I call a Double Dutch, one orgasm that becomes two. I try to twist away from him, but he keeps me in place. I arch off the bed, my legs locked at his hips, and when the second orgasm railroads me, I feel Forbes licking the tears streaming down the side of my face. “Hold on,” he whispers. He keeps fucking me, and I’m an unholy mess when he comes, gasping for air from the force of another orgasm. Forbes holds me to him, finding his own release.

“God,” I whine, “I…you…” I shake my head, my heart beating in my ears.

“Better than I remembered,” he manages to mutter. He thrusts then, and my hand connects with his side on a reflex. A slap on his slick skin that echoes. “Stop,” I grind out, fighting the urge to push him away and keep him close. “Fuck me, I can’t…”

“You can.” He licks my skin, and swivels his hips. “And you will.”

It’s late, and Forbes and I are lying on my bed, covered in nothing but a sheet. Our skin has cooled, but he’s always run hot, and I’m just too damn tired to move. My head is tucked into the crook of his shoulder, my leg thrown over his, and he’s playing with my fingers that rest on his chest. We should go shower, but when I tried that an hour ago, I ended up on my hands and knees with Forbes taking me hard and fast from behind. I had to bury my face in my pillow to stifle my scream because he held nothing back, and I’ll be walking funny later to prove it. I’m sure his handprint is still on my asscheek, like his handprint is around my throat, but it was worth it. Even now, he’s hard beneath the sheet, and I have to resist the urge to straddle his hips purely because I’m fucking sore. He fucks like a champ, and I dare say his technique is a far cry from what it was a decade ago. I snort, of course it would be. The man is hung, attractive, and you don’t exactly become a good lay by staying celibate.

He twists his head, and I look up at him. “What?” he asks quietly, his voice hoarse.

“I was just thinking about how much sex you must’ve had between now and the last time I saw you to become so fucking good at fucking.” I say it with a genuine smile because I didn’t harbor any fantasies about him waiting for me in any capacity. In fact, I should probably thank the women who came before me because they were the equivalent of crash-test dummies. Of the sexual variety. And I just got to test drive the latest model.

Forbes barks out a laugh, the rumble in his chest making my nipples stand. He thoroughly abused those too, but I’m not complaining. I’ll just wear ice packs in my bra tomorrow.

“God, I can’t remember you ever being so crass,” he remarks. “It suits you.”

I shrug. “I’m not a kid anymore.” The moonlight coming in through the curtains catches his eyes, and in them I see a calm that is in juxtaposition to the craze with which he took my body a mere hour ago. Even his heartbeat is steady, and calm. I probably should have asked him everything I wanted to know before falling into bed with him, but having an orgasm (read: orgasms, plural) from being so thoroughly screwed was far more important. But now, in the quiet, they’re on the tip of my tongue. I just don’t know if he wants to—

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Avril.” So much for my poker face. Though, it’s been a poke-her face because he took that task extremely seriously.

I try to recall the texts he sent me, the ones about his ex-wife, but my brain is a little sluggish, so he helps me out by saying, “I never remarried after Celeste, but like you, I haven’t been celibate either.”

I contemplate just how much I really want to know, but again, Forbes offers me the information anyway. “Nothing serious, though. I had a hard time trusting anyone after what Celeste did.”

I swallow. “You said she cheated on you six months after you left New York?”

He looks away from me, but over my shoulder the partly open curtain. “That was my guess, considering she fell pregnant. I suspect she was already pregnant when we attended your eighteenth birthday, I just chose not to believe the signs.” He looks back down at me, still fiddling with my fingers. “I’m sure a part of her knew, though, that I cared more for someone else than I did her. Someone I wasn’t allowed to have.”

I blink, taking in his words, and allowing them to settle in my bones. “I was devastated when you left,” I admit softly. “But I’m not sure I ever regretted it, you know? I know now what we did was wrong, but only because I was so young and you were married. Had I been older, had you been single, I always wonder what would have happened then.”

Forbes rolls onto his side, fitting his hips between mine, and trails a lazy finger up my thigh, his erection between us. How he’s still hard is a fucking miracle. “You still would have been my best friend’s daughter,” he whispers.

“And now?” I ask, boldly reaching for his dick, and tilting my hips so I can align him. I’m sore, but like this, it can be slow. Sensual. “What am I now?” I hook my foot around his back, and slide myself onto him, enjoying the power it stokes inside me, the fullness.

“Now you’re playing with fire,” Forbes replies on a growl.

“Why? Because you’re not wearing a condom?” We’ve suited up every time, even though I know he said he can’t have children.

“Because this is not a one-night stand,” he replies, dipping his head. “I came to New York for you.”

Squeezing my ass, he moves and as I suspected it would be, it’s slow, and sensual, but it’s not what makes my throat tighten, or my eyes grow wet. It’s the possibility that he’s telling the truth, that he came back to New York for me, and that maybe, I could too easily fall for the man he is now. This time I come tucked into his body while he’s tucked into mine, and more worried about what the morning will bring than I should be.