I skim my hands over her backside when she settles down, her smooth ass cheeks filling my hands. Leaning forward, she kisses me, tits hanging in the perfect position for me to cup them with my giant hands.

“Mmm, you feel good,” she croons, leaning down to nip at the skin of my collarbone. “Taste good, too.”

She hasn’t sunk down on me yet.

I try to say, I aim to please, but the words won’t come out, because it’s the same moment Skylar lines herself up and lowers her body.

“Holy fucking…” sh-shit.

A tiny gasp of air fills both our lungs. She’s taking her time, each second measured, killing us both in the unbearably slow process.

She is going to kill us. I’m going to fucking die if I can’t bury myself deep.

My hips want to thrust up, cock filled with so much blood my brain gets lightheaded. No way could I walk out of this room and operate a motor vehicle, or take a sobriety test, or add two numbers together.

Skylar sinks lower, taking the last of my brain cells with her.

Two plus two is eleventy hundred.

Her breath is shaky. Labored. Hands pressing against my makeshift headboard—a giant Iowa wrestling flag I have pinned to the wall.

I hope she doesn’t accidentally tear it down while we’re screwing; it’s only hanging on by a thread—well, by four tiny brass push-pins, one in each corner and—

“Fuck, Skylar.” I’m the one gasping when she swivels her hips, rocking back and forth on top of me, kind of like a rodeo queen fucking a bucking bronco.

Bad analogy.

“God you feel good,” she whispers into the darkness, and all I can hear are the short breaths she’s taking as she rides me.

“Does it hurt?”

Because she is really fucking tight, gloriously so. Snug. Warm. Wet. Tight.

A motherfucking dream come true.

“It kind of does but in a good way. I…it burns just a little, but I don’t care—you feel so…mmm, Abe, stay just like that, don’t move.” Her hips continue their steady, rhythmic rotation, languid and unhurried, hands still pressed against the back wall.

When she angles her neck, I catch a glimpse of her reflection in the light; her eyes are closed, teeth bearing down on her bottom lip. She’s concentrating.

“Mmm…oooo…” Her sex noises aren’t loud, but they’re sexy. A bit porno-worthy, but that’s just my opinion. “Put your hands on my ass please.”

So polite.

I comply readily. “Here?”

“Can you move your fingers so they’re…” Her ass squirms, trying to direct me.

I move my fingers, assuming she wants them closer to her crack, and I must have flipped a magic switch because Skylar moans. Fucking moans loud. The fucks get harder. Deeper.

Tossing her head to the side, Skylar’s hair hangs in my face.

I spit out a few strands that land in my mouth, mindful to keep my fingers near her asshole.

Skylar is a bit dirty, a bit naïve—a powerful combination.

“Just like that, yeah baby…”

She’s sexy as hell. So goddamn sexy.

She’s also talking to herself, lost in the moment, caught up in whatever shocks are overtaking that sweet pussy of hers, head lolling from side to side every few moments.

Lost. She’s lost in herself, and I’m lost in her and it’s freaking gorgeous.

I fucking love her.

One swipe.

One date.

Sweet. Salty. Bratty. Kind—and all mine.

I get lost in her, basking as she rides my hips, pressing down, pelvises rubbing together, the connection deep. She lowers a hand from the wall and lets it glide over the firm pecs of my chest, thumb flicking my nipple. Reaches behind and places it over mine, pushing—so I push harder.

Pushing deeper still.

Grind. Swivel.

Gasp.

Groan.

As I watch her lips part in ecstasy, I can’t help wondering if they’ll ever be wrapped around my dick, sucking it. Which is the worst possible thing to wonder when you’re trying not to come in under three minutes.

Too. Fucking. Late.

“Shit, Skylar, I’m gonna come.”

“No.” She’s barely paying me any attention, lost in the sensations of her own impending orgasm. “Not yet.”

Goddamn she’s a greedy little asshole.

“No?” I think my brows must go up, but I can’t tell for sure. My entire fucking body is one tingling nerve. “You want me to pull out? I’ll last longer.”

“You pull out and you die,” she whines.

Fuck, what does she want me to do! I’m three seconds from blowing my load.

“Skylar,” I warn. “Cats. Mom.” Fuck, do not think about your mother right now. “Uh. Horror movies. Cats again. Dead deer on the side of the road…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m trying not to come.”

“Oh my god, Abe, do not say that shit out loud.”

“Sorry.”

“Mmm, good boy…”

Annnd she’s back to sounding like a porn star.

That.

Does.

Not.

Help.

I buck harder, thrusting up. Pulling her down, going as deep as I possibly can. Dig my fingers into her ass cheeks without digging them into her asshole—I’m not into butt stuff. Bend my knees, raise my hips so we’re elevated off the bed, working my core muscles and fucking her hard, as best I can from the bottom while she fucks me from the top.

“Yes…oh god, yes, keep doing that don’t stop.”

I’m going to die anyway from exhaustion; I’m in great shape, but this might kill me in the end. Goddamn my abs are already aching, but if it makes her happy…

“Abe, god…ooo shit…oh baby, yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Skylar

“Give me all the details.”

“There aren’t many. I met him at the bookstore—it’s so cute, by the way—and we sat there for a few minutes chatting, no big deal. Then I made a joke about his height and he said, ‘Let’s compare,’ so we stood up, measured, and that’s when he kissed me.”

“He kissed you right there in the middle of the bookstore?” Her voice is wistful.

“Yeah—it was pretty romantic.”

“Did you stand there all night making out? I would have.”

“No, Hannah, we did not stand there all night making out, because we were in public. I have some class you know.” I rub my thighs together; they’re almost as sore as my crotch, the consequences of last night’s sexcapades pulsing between my legs. Ouch. “Actually, we were only at the bookstore a grand total of probably twenty minutes. Some lady interrupted us, so we left.”

Hannah stares, unblinking.

It’s so odd the way she tries to manipulate me into telling her stuff; she should be an interrogator.

“Then we went to the overlook.”

“And made out?”

“Er. Yeah, for about a minute.”

“Did he touch all your lady parts?”

“Yes. No. I mean—he touched my boobs.”

“Did he make you come?”

“Hannah!”