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Kick, Push

Page 26

   


I chuckle against her skin and jerk my hips up. “Yeah? You like that?”
“Mm-hmm.” She starts grinding, her ass making slow circles against my cock.
“Megabytes. Hard drive. Gigawatts.”
“Shut up,” she says through a chuckle, turning her head to face me. She runs her tongue across my lips and I no longer have to question what she wants. I capture her mouth with mine, one hand on her breast and the other between her legs.
Breaking the kiss, she moans, her voice cracking when she breaks away from my kiss and spreads her legs wider. I kiss her shoulder while I cup her sex. She pushes against my hand and whispers my name.
“Is this okay?”
“God, Josh… I want…”
I lick up her neck and bite gently on her ear. “Tell me what you want, Becca.”
“More,” she breathes. “I want more.”
Gently, I move her panties to side and run a single finger between her slit. Her breath catches. So does mine. “Please,” she whispers, the back of her head resting on my shoulder and both her hands gripping my forearm.
I slowly slide a finger inside her, my heart hammering against my chest—hoping to every fire trucking thing in the world that I’m doing it right. Her nails dig in, her entire body tensing when I replace one finger with two.
She moans, her hips gliding back and forth, meeting my hand thrust for thrust. “Holy shit, Josh.”
I involuntarily lift my hips, pressing harder against her.
“Please don’t stop,” she says, one of her hands moving to her breast and squeezing gently.
“Fuck, Becca. I couldn’t stop even if you asked me to.”
Her eyes drift shut when I push the top of her dress down, and then her bra, and when I cup her bare breast, she jerks forward, her legs squeezing my hand between them.
“Do you want me to stop?” I pant.
Her head drops forward, her hair a curtain around her face. “Fuck no.”
Then her hips find a rhythm and my fingers follow. So does my cock against her ass. I kiss the back of her neck and pinch her nipple lightly. “You’re so fucking wet, Becca. So fucking perfect.”
“Holy shit,” she moans. Then faces me quickly, her eyes wide. “Kiss me.”
I do as she as she says, and a moment later she tightens around my fingers. Her moans start low, and get louder with each thrust. “Fuck, Josh, I’m gonna…”
“Fuck.”
“I’m gonna…”
Her eyes squeeze shut, her sex pulsing around my fingers as she pants out my name, over and over, all while she shudders in my arms. I kiss her neck, her jaw, her mouth. Tiny, quiet moans escape her lips until she finally relaxes, her breaths heavy, mixed with mine.

“Holy shit,” she says, pushing my hands away.
Then she stands up, her dress completely disheveled. Her eyes are hooded, filled with lust. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long,” I tell her. And something switches in the way she’s look at me.
In a single move, she takes off her dress.
And then her bra.
“Holy shit!” My hands reach out, my gaze on her tits. Her hands circle my wrists and lead me to the places I’ve only dreamed about. I squeeze them gently, licking my lips and taking her in. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
Her chest falls with her heavy exhale before she steps forward and leans down, her fingers curling in the band of my shorts. My eyes stay on hers and I push back all my insecurities, all my questions, and lift my hips so she can free me.
I needed to be freed.
She smiles softly, her gaze on my junk and then, still facing me, she sits down on my legs—legs that tense as soon as her soft hand curls around my cock. My mouth finds her nipple, licking and sucking while she strokes me and I know I’m not going to last. It’s been a long fucking time.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, moving from one nipple to the other.
“Is this okay?” she says, her voice husky and sexy as fuck.
“Yeah, baby.” I want to say that it’s better than okay—that it’s perfect, just like her, but there are so many better things I’d rather be doing with my mouth. Like suck hard on her nipple—making her back arch and her hand tighten. She starts to stroke faster and my hips thrust forward. I grab a handful of her butt and bring her closer to me—which is a huge mistake because now my dick’s pressed against her wetness—the only thing separating us is the thin fabric of her panties. Her free hand combs through my hair and tugs lightly. I pull away from her breast and look up at her, right into her eyes. She starts to grind against me while still stroking and I can feel the wetness soaking through her panties and onto… “Fuck, Becca, I want inside you so bad.”
Her head lolls back, her groan loud.
Then she releases me and scoots back before standing up.
And for a second I think it’s over—that I fucked up and I’m going to live the rest of my life with blue balls.
But then she spreads my legs apart and drops to her knees in front of me—smiling, right before she takes me in her mouth.
Swear it, if heads could explode, mine just did.
My head throws back, my eyes unfocused as I stare at the ceiling trying to breathe through and prolong the pleasure she’s giving me. Then she does something that pretty much seals the deal on her perfection—she takes my hand and places it on the back of her head and I shit you not, I go blind.
Legit, certifiable, blind.
All I can see are flashes of white.
My legs tense, my cock pulses, and a few seconds later I’m warning her and tugging on her hair for her to stop. She won’t. She just doubles her efforts and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from screaming because it feels too fucking good to be true. She looks up at me through her lashes and that’s all it takes for me to come. I close my eyes, partially because I can’t help it, but also because I’m too ashamed to see what the outcome of over three years without sex could possibly be.
Her hands are gentle as they settle on my legs. “Are you okay?” I think she says, but it’s hard to hear her over my heavy pants and my pulse pounding in my ears and the sounds of triumph running through my head.
Trumpets.
I hear trumpets.
“I’m blind and I can’t feel my legs.”
 
 
15

-Joshua-
When Becca had to cancel our date because an old friend was coming to visit her, honestly—I was a little disappointed. But she said she couldn’t do much about it—that it was kind of a surprise. She didn’t give me any more information. In fact, when I’d asked her about it, she seemed to get even quieter than she normally was and when my curiosity peaked and I asked if it was a guy—an ex-boyfriend or something—she snapped. Then I told her she was being evasive about it all and that I had to assume something was going on. She apologized quickly but still didn’t offer up anything more.
But, my disappointment and curiosity turned to full-blown intrigue when Chazarae’s car pulled into the driveway on the Friday afternoon of what should have been our date night. When Becca had said “friend” I had assumed a friend from high school—not the thirty-something-year-old blonde woman who’s stepping out of the car.