I whimpered, and his finger clenched at the sound.
“Don’t tease me,” I begged. “Fuck me.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Penny,” he said calmly and quietly and with authority I hadn’t realized I’d granted. “I’m going to.”
My brain had already exploded, and my awareness was focused on every place we touched, so when he disappeared for a second, the loss was a cold shock against my hot skin. But then he grabbed my hand, pulling me over to the couch. When he sat, he pulled me down to sit next to him, my heart pounding as I tried to kiss him. He had other plans, stopping me by cupping my cheek. His thumb slipped into my mouth, and I closed my lips over it, telling him with my eyes that I wished something else were in its place entirely.
“Lie down,” he ordered gruffly, guiding me to stretch across his lap with my ass up and my knees and elbows on the couch.
His cock was rock hard against the space between my belly button and clit, and I found myself wriggling against him, shifting slowly, my pulse frantic. I felt crazy. He was actually driving me mad, and he’d barely even touched me.
Dicknotized. If I were a cartoon, my eyes would be pinwheels with dicks in the middle, spinning around and around.
I was already panting, partly because I had no idea what he was going to do to me.
Where are his hands? Why aren’t they on me? Why aren’t they in me? I need them to touch me.
Part of me just wanted him to flip me over and fuck me senseless. The rest of me wanted him to tease me forever.
I looked back at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on my ass — my skirt didn’t fully cover it, lying down like I was.
“Cross your ankles.” His hand found my ass cheek and squeezed, kneading it as his thumb slid under the hem of my skirt.
I did as I had been told, my heart hammering.
His hands were reverent as they lifted up my skirt, flipping it so my entire backside was on display. His face was reverent too, as if he’d found some secret of the universe under my skirt.
Bodie grabbed my ass again, groaning softly, his cock flexing under me. His thumb slipped between my ass and gripped, spreading me open, and I arched, lifting it into the air.
“That’s right,” he breathed, voice deep. “Open up for me.” His hands moved — one kept me exposed, the other explored.
First were his fingers running down the line and to my clit for a split second of glorious pressure before trailing back up. Then down they went with more pressure as he passed through the slickness of my core, wetting his fingers even more. The third time, his fingers nestled between the length of my lips, the tips capturing the ball of my piercing, and my hips bucked in answer. When he shifted them laterally, the sensation across the entire length of me coupled with my piercing circling my clit was too much.
I gasped, heart slamming, nails scrabbling for purchase against the leather couch cushion, my face buried between my clenching hands.
“Please,” I groaned. “Fuck, Bodie. Please. Please.”
He said nothing, and I couldn’t look, not with starbursts flashing behind my pinched lids.
I felt his wet fingers move up and then his thumb, now somehow wet too.
It was so slick, so smooth, that it didn’t even give me pause when he circled the tight hole I rarely let anyone near.
His thumb gently ran across me, his fingers stroking my pussy at the same speed, same pace, the pressure increasing until he flexed his fingers and slid into me, both holes at once.
I raised off his lap, my mouth hanging open, my breath frozen in my lungs, but he didn’t stop. He stroked me, played my body, pushed every button, even buttons I hadn’t known I had. His fingers performed some exquisite gymnastics that I’d be thinking about for a decade, though in the moment I didn’t care how he was doing it, only that he didn’t stop. Ever. His pinkie rocked against my clit as the rest of his hand fucked me with tender determination.
The deeper he went, the harder he went, the less control I had. Part of me wondered if I’d ever had any at all.
I couldn’t even move, just laid there on his lap with my ass in the air. My hands moved to his leg under me, gripping his jeans, bracing myself.
“Come on, Penny,” he said roughly, begging. “Come, so I can fuck you.”
His hand flexed again, and three pressure points that he pressed screamed.
“That’s right. Come on. Come for me.”
Another flex. My heart strained against my ribs.
“F-f-fuck,” I groaned as my body orgasmed, not a single thing in my control. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whispered against the leather of the couch cushion with every pulse of my body, full in every possible way and nowhere near full enough.
“Thank God,” he breathed. A flurry of motion, he moved my limp body off his lap, put my knees on the ground, and moved behind me, kneeling between my legs.
I barely possessed any awareness of my surroundings, not until he grabbed my hips and slipped into me from behind, hitting my G-spot like he fucking had radar for it.
“Fuck!” I cried, sliding my hands into the back of the cushion to hang on as the orgasm I’d thought was gone got a second wind.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Penny,” he growled as he pounded me.
His hand twisted in my hair and pulled. My orgasm thundered back to life with every pump of his hips. I didn’t even know how — it just wouldn’t stop, rolling through me like it would never end. My body was on fire, writhing and wriggling and flexing and contracting as he slammed into me over and over again, finally coming with a moan, a cry, a shudder, and jackhammering hips that hit the end of me so hard that I couldn’t breathe.
I don’t even know how we came down or how long it took or what happened after that — I blacked out from bliss.
When I regained a fraction of my senses, I found myself lying on the rug, tucked into Bodie’s side, both of us still fully clothed other than his unbuckled pants, condom still on.
I didn’t even remember him putting it on, and the fact that it hadn’t even crossed my mind when he was nailing me from behind freaked me out. But only for a second. Lucky for me, he was a trustworthy guy, and he had been since high school. Maybe it hadn’t crossed my mind because I did trust him.
That foreign thought freaked me out too.
I didn’t have too long to contemplate it before Bodie seemed to reconnect his wires, turning to look down at me with a smile.
“So,” I started, the word lazy, “if you tell me you earned your nickname by fucking girls like that in high school, I’m really going to be burned about missing that shot.”
He chuckled and ran his hand down my arm. “Trust me — that was not the case. Roddy started it. First I was D, and Jude was Judie. Then D evolved into Diddle and Judie to Dee Dee. The nickname had nothing to do with anything other than him trying to humiliate me. I didn’t see a vagina in real life until college.”