Amazing.
“That isn’t helping,” I moaned.
And to that, he gave a gentle tug on my hair that felt like he was driving me down on his dick.
My head back, my neck bowed, Merry kept thrusting as he grunted, “Arch your back for me.”
I did and watched his eyes drop to my tits.
“More,” he growled.
I gave him more.
At that, he growled again, eyes glued to me in the mirror, and he fucked me harder.
Shit, I could see that being a turn on for a guy because it was a turn on for me.
I braced my hands on the basin and started rearing back into his dick.
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, moving his hand from my hair to my shoulder and driving me back even harder.
“Merry,” I breathed.
He curled his torso over me, his cock still pounding, his other hand moving from my hip up my belly. He caught one of my breasts and watched himself tug hard at my nipple.
But I watched the raw hunger on Merry’s face as he did it and I felt what he did, and it shot from my nipple to my pussy, detonating. My head flew back and I clenched my teeth, driving my moan back down my throat where it felt like it was vibrating along with my orgasm against my man’s plunging cock.
I wasn’t done yet when he pulled out, turned me, lifted me, planted my ass on the edge of the vanity, then tipped and lifted it. His mouth to mine, he thrust back inside.
“Close,” he grunted.
I knew what he was saying.
I raised my knees, pressed them to his sides, and took his cock as I slid my hands into his hair and panted into his mouth while he grunted quietly into mine.
“Now,” he groaned, planting himself deep, and I yanked his head down, his open mouth to mine.
I slid my tongue inside so I could fully experience the orgasm he was growling down my throat.
I kissed him through it and I kissed him as he came down.
He took over the kiss when it left him.
Mine had been hot.
Merry’s was sweet and soft and long.
Both were fantastic.
But it had to end, so he ended it, lifting his head as he slid a hand up to cup one side of my face.
His eyes roamed my features for a long time.
“Fuck, it’s like you’re at your prettiest first thing in the morning,” he muttered.
God, I liked that.
“You’re just saying that because I let you wake me up at a God-awful hour and fuck me,” I teased.
He looked into my eyes. “Beat me to the punch, Cherie. That was my next compliment. You’re the best fuck I’ve had first thing in the morning…or ever. But I’m not bullshitting you when I say a good part of that is first thing in the mornin’ fuckin’ someone as pretty as you.”
To beat back the warm and squishy all that made me feel, I pressed myself tighter to him, my hands roaming his hair, his neck, his shoulders, murmuring, “And I thought it was my excellent lovemaking skills.”
He grinned. “I make love to you, honey. My girl fucks. And she does it…day or night…lookin’ pretty.”
I straightened in his arms. “I can make love too. You just won’t let me.”
I wasn’t sure this was true. I’d never tried it.
“We’ll test that when we got time in my bed where we don’t have to be quiet ’cause your boy is on my couch.”
Shit.
My eyes shot to the closed door.
“I should check on him,” I muttered.
“He didn’t hear.”
I looked back to Merry. “You sure?”
“I can’t see through walls and don’t got a dog’s hearing, but I’ve been a ten-year-old boy. It’s not even six in the morning. He’s out of it. He didn’t hear a thing.”
“He’s in unfamiliar surroundings.”
“He’s with his mom and a guy he trusts. He’s fine.”
That was true.
“I should still check on him.”
One side of Merry’s lips tipped up. “Can I slide my dick outta you before you do that?”
I gave him a look.
Then I said, “Yeah.”
He gave me a very different look before he dropped his head and kissed me as he slid out of me.
When he was done, he pulled my ass off the vanity and put me on my feet. Merry went to the toilet. I went to my discarded panties and pajamas.
I tugged them on and moved out of Merry’s bathroom and bedroom, closing the door behind me.
Slowly, quietly, I walked down the hall.
I barely reached the living room when I saw my kid, arm flung over his head, blanket tangled in his legs, pajama top having ridden up his belly, totally out.
I smiled.
Then I slowly, quietly made my way back down the hall and into Merry’s room to find him naked and in his walk-in closet.
I hit the door and leaned against the jamb.
“He’s out,” I shared.
“Told you,” he muttered to a suit on a hanger he was jerking across the rung.
“Shower time,” I said.
Merry looked to me.
I pushed away from the jamb and walked to the bathroom, discarding my pajamas and panties as I did it.
I made it to the bathroom first.
But it was Merry who turned on the shower.
* * * * *
I was at the sink in Merry’s kitchen.
“Is this your culinary brilliance?”
Merry asked that question and I turned in order to answer him.
But when I turned, I didn’t even open my mouth.
I stopped dead.
Because on one side of the kitchen was Merry, leaning against the counter in suit pants, a nice shirt, bare feet crossed at the ankles, a plate held up in front of him holding the eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast I’d made him and my kid. And on the other side, my boy was leaning against the counter in jeans, a long-sleeved tee, bare feet crossed at the ankles, hair wet, his own plate held up in front of him.