Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

writhed under him. “Web!”

My body tightened, balls, muscles, everything squeezed at once, and I spurted onto the comforter, shuddering with my roaring climax as Cy fucked me through it. When he collapsed on top of me, twitching with the last of his own orgasm, I was finally able to breathe. Even his added weight was of no consideration.

Never in my life had I been filled with cum, felt it hot and slick inside of me as well as sliding down my thighs in sticky, slippery rivulets. It felt like being branded, and the smell of it, of sex and sweat mixed together, was intoxicating.

The urge to get up and run away was as powerful as the one to roll over and pull the man down into my arms.

I was terrified and sated and sore and joyful. What the hell?

He eased out of me slowly, carefully, and was gone seconds later. I heard the door open and close, and I was left alone in the room that was rapidly cooling. I couldn’t get my muscles to unclench enough to lie down, and I didn’t want to drop onto splattered semen, so I just stayed there, frozen, until I had feeling in my thighs again.

The door opened—I heard it, felt the blast of cool air—and then he was there, chuckling, crooning at the same time.

“Good, you didn’t move. You knew I’d be right back.”

“I can’t move. My muscles are locked, here.”

“That’s because your whole body tightened all at once.” He sighed, kissing my back, between my shoulder blades, the base of my spine. “You felt so good. Jesus, Weber, you were amazing.”

I grunted as his hands, as warm as the washcloth, slid over my sensitized skin.

“You were,” he told me, his touch reverent, gentle, tender as he cleaned my ass and the inside of my quivering thighs.

I moved then, crawled forward and collapsed down onto the pillow as I heard him rubbing at the comforter.

“Sorry.”

“That’s what a washing machine is for.” He chuckled. “I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning. My mother will never be the wiser.”

“I couldn’t help it.”

“And I wouldn’t change any part of what we just did, so get over it.”

I groaned. “I had no idea you could fuck like that. Why didn’t you ever—”

“No,” he cut me off, falling onto the bed beside me, abandoning his clean-up to curl around me fast. “That was so not fucking in any way, and don’t even try and play it off like it was.”

I rolled away from him, unable to meet his gaze.

He crawled over me, flopped down hard so we were face to face again, and reached out and put a hand on my cheek. “I just made love to you, Weber Yates, and do you know why?”

I winced as he started to laugh at me.

“Because I love you.” He exhaled deeply, and I saw his eyes go, saw them soften, fill but not spill over, and they were gorgeous and wet and the man was just altogether breathtaking.

“Goddammit, why you wanna go and—”

“Shut up,” he ordered, and his smile was luminous as it came, finally, through tears.

“Cy….”

“Just say it,” he pressed, his breath choppy as he stared into my eyes.

“Why? It won’t change nothin’?”

“I think it will, and I need to hear it already.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

“I love you, Weber Yates, so much, so completely. I—”

“Jesus Christ, Cy! You know I love you,” I snapped at him irritably. “That’s not the problem! It’s never been the problem! We just—”

“Oh,” he gasped and cut me off with a kiss, arms wrapping around my neck, left leg sliding over my thigh, chests plastered together, and his lips sliding, fitting perfectly like they always had. It was seamless the way his mouth and body molded to mine, effortless.

I broke away from him, ending the kiss, but he held on, keeping me there, holding me so our lips hovered close. “You ain’t listenin’ to me.”

“No, you’re not listening to yourself.” He smiled wide. “As usual. You’re really such an ass.”

“Cy—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“What?” I was confused.

“When I was inside of you, did I hurt you?”

“No you didn’t hurt me! What the hell kind of ques—”

“Because I have to tell you that I can’t wait to do that again.” He shivered. “Watching my cock slide into your beautiful—”

“Oh God, can we not talk about this, please?”

“Seeing you dripping with me was like—”

“I will seriously end you,” I growled at him even as he wriggled closer, the arms around my neck tightening as he whimpered in the back of his throat. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, baby,” he said, eyes on my mouth, all semblance of concentration gone. “I heard you. I heard you begging and whining and—”

I kissed him to shut him up, and he met me eagerly with an open mouth, his tongue tangling with mine as he rolled over on top of me and pinned me under him to the bed.

“You’ve never been so aggressive before,” I told him, panting, when he let me breathe.

“I never knew you belonged to me before.”

And I would have argued, but the way he was kissing me, the feel of his hands, the heat of his skin… all I wanted to do was just surrender.

So for once I did.

Chapter Four

I WOKEup feeling better than I had in a while. My body hurt, there were new bruises, and I was sore in brand new places, but there was comfort too, which was just too terrifying to contemplate. Nothing had changed. I would still have to leave because, again, my brain told my heart for the ten billionth time, I could not live in San Francisco. There was nothing for me to do there.

Having changed and gone out the front door, ready for my morning run, I was surprised when Rachel was suddenly there.

“May I join you?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

She cleared her throat. “Not that I don’t love your sexy drawl when you say ma’am, but I really would like you to call