by Penny Wylder
“Drew, Drew, Drew.” His name is my mantra, my prayer. “You’re so good, oh my god, oh my god, please, please, don’t stop again, please.”
He growls his approval into my core, so I keep going because I need him to help me find that edge.
He slips another finger inside me and my back arches and, fuck, it’s so good. I say his name again, again, again, a broken chant as his fingers pump, as his tongue moves, and it can’t last, it’s too much. The wave crests and crashes and there’s just heat, just pleasure as I scream wordlessly. My body is made of fire; he’s consuming me and I love it.
He’s not done with me. As he stands again, I see his throbbing cock and know exactly what comes next as he wipes his mouth and eyes me hungrily.
“How was it?” I ask, growing bold.
“I should be asking you that,” he says as he grabs me, hoisting my legs around his waist and moving back across the room to push me against the door. “Why don’t you have a taste yourself and tell me?” His mouth is on mine, kissing me with the tang of salt. I know I’m tasting myself, and it has me thrusting against him.
“Must like it,” he whispers against my lips. “So did I. But I think you’ll like this more.”
My eyes are closed, I can’t catch my breath. Fuck, do I need his cock. I hear the rough pull of a zipper through my panting breaths, hear the soft whump of heavy denim falling to the floor as he discards his jeans followed by the tearing sound of a condom wrapper. I know my pleas have not been in vain and he's about to make good.
“You're mine,” he growls.
I shiver with anticipation just as I begin to feel what I've been wanting all along. He slides on the condom and the hot, blunt tip of his cock presses against my clit. I let out a strangled gasp at the feeling, but he gives me no quarter.
“You want this, right?” He whispers against my ear.
“Yes,” I groan.
He licks my neck, every nerve electric in sheer want. “You need to show me you really want it. Do you?” He’s sliding his cock against my clit, teasing, and fuck, fuck, I need him inside me.
“Please, Drew,” I whimper.
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me." Saying it gives me a new thrill.
“Again.” He nips my earlobe, sliding his cock down to tease my entrance, so close, not close enough, it’s torture.
“Please, Drew, please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me!” I sob out, and I love how he kissing me hungrily.
I had asked, no begged him to fuck me, so he does, taking me hard and fast and I can't help it, his name escapes me in a choked sob released into his greedy mouth. He's big; the outline of his cock displayed under the blanket in his hotel had been no lie. I'm full, stretched to the brink.
Drew gives me no time to adjust to his girth, snapping his hips up again and again in an unrelenting rhythm. Pinned to the door by his thrusts, the molding digging into my skin, I am at his mercy.
This is his show, and he plays me as he will.
His thrusts slow and stop, his kiss becomes more languid, and then he slips out of me and lowers me to the ground. I stifle a whine of protest; I want to ask why when I’ve done all he asked.
His hands move up from my ass to my bare tits, and they feel like they belong there. It's delicious, but after having him inside me, after climbing towards my second peak, it's not nearly enough.
“Something wrong?” he chuckles. He's sucking and biting and words escape me again, so instead, I thrust my hand between us to grasp his cock, the condom still slick with my juices, and stroke forcefully.
Drew shucks off his shirt. I can't help my eyes sweeping his body, his sculpted chest and erect cock taunting me. Wetting my lips with the tip of my tongue, I'm about to break the intensity of his gaze when he grabs my wrist and pulls.
“Bend over.” His voice is thick as he pulls me back again to the small dining table and positions my hands on the top. I don't protest, anticipation running thick in my veins as he moves behind me, his large, warm hand resting on the small of my back. I comply readily, the need racing in tingles up my spine. It's easy to read what he wants, and the idea of him taking me like this, bent over from behind like rutting animals—it’s so filthy that I eagerly widen my stance to accommodate him. I want to feel him this way, want him to put actions to his words, and as I feel his body cover mine from behind, hot and muscled, I raise my ass higher. I need this too much not to.
“Fuck, I love your ass,” he says, smacking my ass. “Those skirts you wear drive me insane, you know that? Fuck.” Another squeeze, another slap, and I'm dizzy.
I feel him shift, his body moves closer and his cock plunges inside me suddenly and forcefully, causing me to arch my back in pleasure. He's deeper in this position. I feel overfull, and with each hard thrust he hits something that makes me sob. My body is buzzing because of him, pleasure with a dash of pain.
One hand is on my hip to keep me steady. When the second hand slides down to my swollen clit and begins to stroke, I nearly come.
I'm clenching in my pleasure, tightening around him it feels so good, and his thrusts become harder.
He starts to talk, hot and close to my ear. “You love this, don't you, love getting fucked. Tell me how much you want it or I'll stop.”
The slow slide of his cock makes me insane when I just want him hard and deep, want him to hit that spot again that makes me melt.
The filth he speaks in my ear thrills me. “I love—ah—when you fuck me!”
The hard thrust he rewards me with sends a bolt of pleasure to my belly. I push my ass back against him in my frustration and he retaliates with a bite to my shoulder, not hard, just enough to drive me wild as I push against him again.
“Fuck me—harder!” I gasp out.
The swift thrust fulfills his promise and Drew inhales sharply. His cock swells in me; he's fighting a battle to keep himself from finishing.
I'm so close, I want to come, to feel him come inside me. I move one hand from where it grips the edge of the table so hard my knuckles are pale, thinking to stroke myself, to help him bring me past the brink, but he grabs my hand before I can do more.
“You'll come when I decide," he purrs cruelly.
“Let me—ahhh—fuck—let me come!”
“So needy,” Drew says as he thumbs my clit in a circle.
Between the hard thrusts, his vigorous stroking of my clit, the filthy words I speak, and the low growl he lets out in my ear, I’m finally, finally gone, my world going hot and white with pleasure as I come on his cock in delicious waves.
Collapsing to the table as my body shakes with static and heat, I realize he's stilled behind me. He pulls out, and I wonder silently if he'd come. I didn't feel it, was that because of the condom? Maybe I was too wrapped up in my own mind numbing orgasm. I'm disappointed—I really wanted to feel him come.
“Get up.” He turns me around, hoists me onto the table top. His cock is still clearly at full mast. A wicked smirk curves on his lips as he grasps my legs and slides me further back on the table before climbing over me, resting just between my thighs.
He leans down to kiss me again, my eyes closing. His cock-head nudges at me, feeding into my pussy with ease. It doesn’t matter that I’ve just come, that I’m so spent, he’s unrelenting.
This is different, more intimate, as his body covers mine. He kisses me senseless while his hips thrust, thrust, thrust. I love the feel of him as he goes hard and deep.
He’s panting, eyes unfocused. His groan is as deep as the earth's core as he hits a spot that makes me sob. Helplessly, I tighten around him, clenching hard in my pleasure.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck you’re too tight, fuck.” He’s pulls up, only his tip inside of me.
“So good,” I moan. “It’s so good. Please, please, Drew.”
“Lucy.” The strangled way he says my name shakes my heart.
I love the way it feels, so clenched around him he has to force every thrust. I want to feel every inch
of him, want to feel him spill inside of me.
He strikes a nerve somewhere deep inside me, I’m done. My world goes dark, then light, my body shakes, and there is pleasure and pleasure and pleasure as I reach the stars.
He convulses with me, flexing as he comes, and it's all so wet and warm I can't tell if the condom is even there anymore.
Drew collapses on top of me, panting into the hollow of my neck. I feel the slick of his sweat, it reminds me of what we just did and how stupid it was. I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t be doing this, not with him.
And double fuck, I realize I was right—it’s too warm inside of me.
He pulls out and rolls to the side of the table, rolling off the condom. I hear him swear and want to swear myself because I see it, too. It broke. The fucking condom is torn.
I let him come inside me and the condom broke.
Chapter 6
Drew
After the first night with Lucy, I can’t get enough. Kissing her, touching her, pulling her aside for “one on one meetings” every chance I get. There are days we get to “meet” more than once, but it’s definitely not every day. Sometimes, there’s too much going on, sometimes she’s so busy and I’m so busy that we can’t get a spare moment, but when we have one? There’s nothing I want more than her.
A couple of times she’s told me we shouldn’t be doing this, that it’s unprofessional or whatever the fuck. Like I give a shit. A manager with benefits is no fucking problem with me. She’s good at her job, she’s keeping everything running smoothly, and on top of that, she’s a hell of a lay.
Doesn’t hurt that since her walls came crumbling down that night, since she’s not trying to put up that bullshit front with me anymore, Lucy is the total package. And for whatever she’s said about professionalism, she’s always game the moment I kiss her. As if being hot for me is some sort of tragic flaw. I’m fucking hot for her. I really don’t see the problem.
Plus the sex is fantastic. It’s just so fucking good, being inside her, coming inside her, too good to stop. And sure, the first time the condom broke, but so what? I'm clean and she's clean. I admit, when I saw how upset she was, it sank into me some, too.
But . . . after sleeping on it? Call me psycho, but the idea of Lucy all big and round with my baby inside of her is like a surge of power straight to my core.
Nothing tells the world that someone is yours like getting them pregnant.
I'm riding a high unlike any other, but even that can’t prevent the sour taste that rises to my throat as I spot Veronica Ashton waiting calmly outside the door of my trailer.
Fuck.
I haven’t seen Veronica in years, haven’t talked to her since I dumped her, and the last thing I want is to see her now. Or ever, really. She wants something—she always did.
“Drew!” she says, her voice full of enthusiasm I can’t echo. “I’m so glad I caught you! It wasn’t easy to arrange, but I thought, wouldn’t it be great to surprise you? I heard about Colin. So tragic.”
Yeah, I’m sure she’s totally broken up. Veronica had never liked my old manager, used to tell me I should ditch him. I never got why she hated him so much, but there was certainly no love lost between the two of them.
Looking around, expecting a trap, I say, "Why are you here?"
Her eyebrows fly up like I just insulted her. “I wanted to catch up.” She sways my way, one hand reaching for my forearm. "You look great. Better than ever."
I brush her off of me. The look of anger on her face says it all—she's not used to being denied. “I'm busy. Whatever you're up to, I want none of it."
Her face falls, sultry smile growing mean, vicious. This is the Veronica I remember, the one who had been so quick to turn when things didn’t go her way. “Why? Because you’re too busy fucking your manager to spend time with an old friend?”
“That’s none of your damn business.” If Veronica had heard us in the trailer, heard me making Lucy moan, hell, I’m glad. She deserves to know what she threw away, what she’s never going to get near again.
She’s indignant, livid as she storms off without a word. Good. It’s not like she hadn’t done worse to me.
I move on to sound check like I should have done five minutes ago, and when I sing, it’s with renewed vigor.
Veronica left a bad taste in my mouth . . . but when Lucy walks through the door of my dressing room later, everything about that bad moment is erased.
The red dress she wears is so sinful I’m sure she wore it just for me. Her perfect tits are accentuated by red fabric.
Tits I'm currently squeezing mercilessly as we kiss, as she straddles my lap on the dressing room sofa, dress hiked up around her thighs. I revel in her sound, the moans and mewls as I stroke her firm nipples through her dress.
Her hands work the snap of my jeans as she frees me, grasping my cock in her hand and stroking. Most of the times we’ve been together, I’m the one in control and I love it, love fucking her in every possible position, but she’s ridden me a couple times and I also love watching her fuck me, love watching how free she becomes as she straddles and takes me.
The thought that she’s about to do just that has my cock throbbing, but as I expect to feel her warmth, panties pushed carelessly aside, I instead feel nothing but air as her lips leave mine, as she slides off my lap. I don’t have long for disappointment as she drops to her knees between my legs. There’s wildfire in her green eyes as she looks up at me and her lips, already swollen from our kiss, curl into a wicked grin.
“You had a really great show tonight, Drew. A good manager rewards her client when he performs well.” Her voice is breathy. Her head dips and suddenly, my cock is enveloped in the molten heat of her mouth.
Feeling her lips on my cock, her tongue lapping up the vein on the underside in a way that has me seeing colors and holding back from slamming into her mouth is amazing. Tangling my hands in her thick hair, I hiss.
She hums, the vibrations are fantastic. She quickens her pace, sucking harder, her head bobbing faster, her tongue working my tip with every upward motion of her head. Holy hell she’s good at this, so fucking good. I must have really, really performed well because this is quite the fucking reward. I’m getting close, but then, suddenly, she’s gone.
I look down in protest. Lucy is grinning up at me coyly. I see something in her hand being held my way and realize it’s her smartphone. What?
“Oh,” she breathes, face flushed, lips red with her recent exertion. “I almost forgot. You have a post-concert phone interview. Just call the last number, and I’ll continue your reward. But if you don’t give a good interview, I may have to stop.” The command in her tone and in her eyes makes me hot. I want her to continue and I want to pick her up and slam her against the couch and slam into her and I just want.
“You sure this is how you wanna play it?” I ask.
“Positive,” Lucy says sweetly, and I snatch up the phone in response and hit the last number without further preamble.
“Jacob Moore,” a deep voice intones. Local producer, probably.
“Drew Avery. We ready to go?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Avery! Let me just inform John and I’ll put you through.”
“Great,” I drawl and then I’m on hold. Normally, I’d be antsy as fuck—interviews are hell and being on hold is worse—but I feel wetness and warmth envelop my cock again, see a head of auburn bobbing vigorously, and I’m way too lost in the feel of her mouth back around me to give a shit.
“Mr. Avery?” the same voice as before asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm, and if my voice is a little lower, a little huskier than the first time, well, I’m a bit preoccupied. Lucy gives a long lick up my shaft and I have to stifle the noise that threatens to escape. Fucking hell.
“You’re on in 3—2—”
“And we’re back with an exclusive post-concert interview with Drew Avery. Hey, Drew, are you with us?”
“Right here,” I confirm, biting my
lip just as Lucy swirls her tongue over my tip in the most maddening way.
“Great to have you on Late Night with the Carp. So, how was the show, Drew?”
“It was good,” I manage to get out. I sound breathless and hoarse, but hopefully it’s taken as post show exhaustion. If not, I really don’t give a shit. “So damn good,” I say lowly, as much referencing Lucy cupping my balls with a light squeeze as anything.
“And what about your new album? I’ve given it a few listens and I have to say, I like how your sound has matured. Is most of your set list coming from the new stuff?”
“It’s a mix.” I fight to keep my voice even as she increases her pace. “Fans like to hear the old stuff, too, and I like playing it.”
“And you’re playing a second night tomorrow, is that right?”
“It is.” I twist my hand into her hair trying to ground myself, to find purchase. “We sold out so fast my new manager convinced me to add a show.”
“Well, you’ll have to thank her for us, then. I know the fans are dying for another chance to see you live.”
“I intend to, trust me,” I chuckle wickedly. Lucy only increases her pace. Shit, I’m not going to last much longer. This interview needs to be over now.
“Oh-kaaaay, fantastic! Well, Drew, we have some tickets to your show to give away after the break, and we’ll be playing a few of the new tunes. I know you only had a few minutes, so thanks for calling!”
“Thanks for having me,” I grit out, years of interviews taking over as my brain short circuits because I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, it’s done. It feels so good I can’t fucking care as I let out a low groan. She starts to lean away from me, but I won't have that.
Keeping her still with my fingers on her scalp, I come deep into her throat. She groans wetly around my shaft, enduring as spurts of my seed fill her mouth.
“And that’s it,” the producer’s voice cuts in. “Thanks for the call in. Gonna be fantastic for ratings. Have a good night.”
“Oh, I intend to,” I say, voice a bit rough as I recover, my orgasm ending just in that moment. I let her go once I know she's swallowed. She’s looking up at me with a wide grin as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I click to hang up and stand, tucking myself in.
