Chapter Twelve
Paige
The things Michael was doing to me, I didn't even have words. I was so turned on, I was practically vibrating with it. The air in the limo was charged, thick with lust and desire, both mine and his. As he played with my clit, sliding his hands across the damp fabric of my panties, it was all I could do not to come right then and there. I was so dangerously close, though. I had been ever since Michael appeared at the bar and made it clear that he wanted to take me home right then.
I felt a pang of guilt, remembering how I had skipped out early, how Erica was probably going to have to spot me money for rent now. But it was hard to focus on such mundane matters, in light of Michael's ministrations.
I moaned loudly as Michael pushed his fingers past my panties and pushed them inside of me. Suddenly, I realized something. “We're not going anywhere,” I said.
Michael pulled his head back from where he'd been nuzzling my neck. He peered towards the window and then gave me a sheepish grin. “When did that happen?” he asked. “Shall we take this inside?”
“Do you think we can make it up the elevator?” I asked breathlessly.
Michael's eyes darkened at that. “The things I'd like to do to you, here and in the elevator,” he said. Then, he shook his head. “Bed.”
“Bed,” I agreed, tumbling out of the limo and letting him follow.
We made it to the elevator without incident. Once there, Michael put his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him and grinding against my behind. “God, you in that dress,” he growled. “When you bent over at the bar, I thought I was going to explode.”
I widened my eyes innocently, looking at him in the mirror. “In this old thing?” I asked.
Michael lowered his head and kissed and sucked his way from the joint of my neck and shoulder up to my ear, pausing to nibble at my earlobe. I mewled plaintively, still caught up in the view of our reflection in the back panel of the elevator. I had to admit, we looked good together, in a way that I could never have expected. Of course, it helped that I was wearing one of my nicest dresses that evening, with my hair blown out in waves. I looked like I belonged next to his fancy, tailored suit and his immaculate dark hair.
But there was something else about it, some unknown quality to our reflection that made me feel like maybe this was right.
I couldn't dwell on it though; soon, we were inside his penthouse apartment. Same as the night before, I didn't have much time to take in my surroundings, as he dragged me impatiently down the hall to the bedroom, barely pausing to close his front door behind us.
I giggled and stripped naked just as quickly as he did.
He drew me up against his body, our kissing even hungrier than it had been before. I trembled against him, already so keyed up. I wanted to beg him for more, but I could barely breathe, given the ferocity of the kiss. I felt as though I was being consumed by him, or consumed by the fire of passion inside me. But I still craved more.
I made a noise of protest as he pulled away from me, but I didn't need to worry: Michael was just as ready as I was for more. He practically threw me onto the bed and then climbed immediately on top of me. His fingers went back to where they had been out in the limo, stroking through my slickness, but this time, my panties weren't in his way.
He plunged his fingers inside of me, working them against my walls, setting a quick, almost violent rhythm. I panted, using my heels to rock down onto his digits, needing more.
And more is what I got. He scissored his fingers, dragging the pads of them down my walls, creating a level of friction that was so perfect, I couldn't help but cry out. I wasn't normally one to be loud during sex, but with Michael, I didn't have a choice. Every little thing that he did had me begging for more.
He twisted his fingers and then bent them, finding a spot inside of me that I had never known existed. I gasped breathlessly, my eyes rolling back in my head. “Again,” I sobbed. “Please, again. Again, again, again.”
Michael grinned triumphantly and continued to work that spot, rubbing it again and again with his fingers. With his other hand, he started to play with my clit again as well, and with so much pleasure coursing through me, I was helpless, I was exploding, I was coming hard, my walls twitching around his fingers, clenching again and again and again.
He slowly withdrew his fingers, and I could only sigh at the loss of fullness. I felt utterly languid, boneless, sated in a way I had never felt before.
But Michael was ready to chase his own pleasure now. He nudged my knees further apart and settled between them. Then, he slid into me in one clean thrust. He paused there, and at first, I thought he was giving me a moment to adjust to his girth. Then, I recognized the strain in his arms, the tight expression on his face. He was close to coming already, I realized, and I couldn't help smiling up at him as I ran my fingers through the back of his hair.
He gave one quick thrust and then paused again, grinning sheepishly down at me. Before he could say anything, though, I surged up into a kiss, realizing that I was incredibly turned on by the idea that he was so incredibly turned on that he could barely stave off the orgasm long enough to fuck me.
He began to move against me, first just short, shallow thrusts, building into longer ones that drove all the air out of my lungs. The spot that he'd been hitting before tingled, still sensitive, and I shivered, fingers twisting in the sheets.
Michael brought a hand down between us, playing with my clit again, even as he continued to fuck into me in sharp, staccato thrusts that sent my blood singing through my veins. I was so close already, so close to coming again. That sated feeling from before had all but vanished, replaced by this gnawing desire, this hunger for him.
He brought his hand up to cup my cheek, looking down into my eyes with an unreadable expression on his face. The deep blue of his eyes pulling me in. But that lasted for just a moment. He dropped down onto his elbows so he could force himself all the way into my body, as far as his member could go.
His thrusts started to lose their rhythm, and he suddenly froze. But I was hardly paying attention, caught up in my own bliss. I came for the second time, my vision whiting out for a moment with the intensity of my emotion. I was shaking with it, clinging to him as though he was a lifeline and I was lost at sea.
It was pleasure unlike any that I had ever experienced, unlike anything that I had ever known that I could feel. I couldn't think, I could only feel each sensation, as though they were echoing through me: his dick twitching inside me, spilling its hot load; his fingers, tightly twisted in my hair; his legs, tangled up in mine. Each delicious point of contact tingled with sensation.
My whole body relaxed, and I sank back into the mattress as his weight sank down onto me. I sighed heavily, wrapping my arms around him to keep him in place for a moment, reveling in the weight, using it to ground myself.
Michael nuzzled my hair for a moment and then pressed a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. He rolled to the side, staring up at the ceiling and panting as he tried to get his breath back.
I knew that I should be getting up now, rolling out of bed, putting my clothes back on, and heading home. But I was exhausted; those two huge orgasms had taken it out of me. I could feel my eyelids slipping closed as Michael settled in behind me, his arm around my waist.
I tried to say something, maybe to protest at the way he was cuddling me. Because if there was anything that was going to make me start feeling attached to him, that was surely it.
I couldn't seem to pry my eyes open for long enough, though, and finally, I succumbed to sleep.