The Pretend Boyfriend (The Pretend Boyfriend #3)(3)
Author: Artemis Hunt

He’s ravenous for her now, believe it or not. The skin around his balls contracts, and he feels the warm blood rush into his dick – empowering it with the familiar outpouring of fluids and rapidly rising tissue.

She seems to be as equally hungry for him. She grabs his waist, her hands roaming up and down his back, as she attacks his lips. One palm goes to the front to cup his engorged c**k and balls. She fumbles for his zipper as she drinks in his mouth. They are both entwining their tongues around each other’s – a sensuous interplay of need and wetness.

His zipper rips.

He didn’t wear underwear today, and his c**k springs out like a Jack-in-a-box. She catches the thick, warm rod of flesh and clutches at it. Then she starts to massage it with firm, pressured strokes – back, forth, back, forth. His hands are squeezing her br**sts, and he’s reaching for her top and pulling it off, breaking off the kiss momentarily. Her eyes are dark with desire and her mouth is slightly open and panting.

They tear each other’s clothes off in haste, leaving their piles of discarded clothing on the floor. She ignites a fire within him like no other woman has before, but he will be damned if he ever tells her that.

They step into the steam room and shut the door behind them with a slam. The room has no lock upon it for obvious reasons, and if Lydia or Thor had decided to stay back and wanted to come in to speak to their bosses, they would be in for a very hair-raising eyeful.

The steam room is lined with wooden benches. The moist heat immediately wraps around their naked bodies. Beads of water coalesce upon his skin and hers. His palms upon her body gather a film of moisture, and he pushes two of his fingers into her open pu**y – already wet and throbbing with need.

She gasps against his mouth. Then she descends, her knees buckling as though she is succumbing to gravity. Her tongue flicker against his nipple. He pulls in a sharp breath. She knows his trigger points so well, and she knows that his right nipple is more sensitive than his left. And so she concentrates her clever tongue upon it while the fingers and thumb of her right hand plays with his left.

He lets her lave his ni**les while his hands slide up and down her back and dampening hair. She spends an inordinately long period on his ni**les. He savors every oscillation of her tongue, marveling at how skillful she has gotten with that appendage in such a short period of time.

He raises his chin and closes his eyes as she descends even further. She’s going to apply that masterful tongue on his nether regions now, and he will never protest against that. He sucks in his breath and waits for the first contact of her hot tongue upon his weeping cock. He isn’t disappointed. Her wriggling tongue settles upon his c**k head immediately, and he feels his bu**ocks clenching as she closes her warm mouth around his hard, straining crown.

Ohhhhh. His balls tighten as she sucks him in.

Her inner cheeks are silky. They feel like a cocoon enwrapping his ultra-sensitive column. The sordid sensations unfurl and rush around his groin like a maelstrom. He basks in the adoration of her mouth as she sucks and sucks at him. His fingers trawl her damp hair.

God, but she has such a talented tongue. She can get him off just like this if she’s not careful.

When his balls are full to bursting and the skin around his c**k is too tight, he carefully disengages her mouth from it.

“You’ll make me come,” he whispers.

She pauses in her fellatio briefly and looks up at him with a sly smile. “I thought that was the point.”

“But I want to stick it into you and f**k you till you scream,” he says, still in that smoky whisper.

She likes it when he talks dirty to her.

“Then do it, lover boy.”

He laughs softly. Their bodies are covered with a sheen of sweat. He seats his bare bu**ocks on a smooth wooden bench and lets her straddle his hips. He stares deeply into her eyes and holds her waist as she navigates her pu**y above his cock.

They have been doing it bareback for some time. Since when, he can’t be sure – but it’s an unspoken tacit understanding between them that he wasn’t f**king anyone else, and she wasn’t either. The moment he rolls on a condom, she would know he’s f**king someone else.

He tips his head back, and lets out a guttural groan as she sheathes his c**k with the wonderful glove of her pu**y.

“God, you feel so good,” he hisses between clenched teeth.

For answer, she buries her face in the crook of his neck and starts to move against his hips. Up, down – the familiar sliding sensation of velvety flesh around his most sensitive area.

They both moan in unison – in his practiced concert they know so well. She varies the tempo of her movements. She knows he likes variation. Sometimes she would do it fast, and sometimes she would slow down – letting him recover with kisses and moans upon her neck and cheeks.

And all this time, she clenches his hot column with her pu**y muscles. He thrusts his hips upwards to meet hers just as she grinds herself downwards upon him. He allows himself to build and build, sensing that he needs quick release.

His balls twitch.

“God, I’m really going to come inside you,” he warns.

“Come,” she says simply. She seems to be very close herself to the threshold.

He holds back, restraining himself until he hears her gasp. She throws her head back and chokes out a guttural cry. It is then he allows himself to erupt. A long, continuous stream of hot cum gushes out of his tip and froths into her pu**y – that wonderful tunnel of mind-bending pleasure he has come to worship.

He bucks into her. His bu**ocks squeeze, jettisoning trails of live-giving se**n into her. Deep, deep, until he’s practically goring at the orifice of her cervix with the edge of his cock.

Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh!

She collapses on top of him – all wet limbs and limp hair and cold, clammy flesh. He feels his muscles relax in the aftermath. They hold on to each other, and he nudges her neck with his lips. She does the same to him.

Like almost love.

Her cellphone outside the door buzzes. It’s a ringtone he hasn’t heard before. Her head rises from his shoulder. He catches a glimpse of her eyes. They are suddenly shaken . . . concerned.

She makes to pull herself off him, but he catches her arms.

“Don’t go. Let it ring.”

“I have to get this,” she murmurs.

“Why? What’s so important?”

“Gym stuff.” She appears to be in a hurry. She doesn’t want to meet his eyes.

With a twinge of irrational jealousy, he wonders if it’s Thor who is calling her. It’s ‘Gym stuff’ all right.