“Merry.” It was a near cry as the orgasm engulfed me.
My head shot back, my back arching, and my body kept moving, partially me, partially Merry’s arm again around my waist, slamming me down.
I heard his noises as I rode out my orgasm, driving deep until finally his arm around me tightened, keeping me down, full of him, and he buried his face in my tank at my breasts and groaned as his body shuddered under me.
I dropped my head so my lips were at his hair and allowed my climax to leave slow, sliding out of me while I sat on Merry’s big dick and held him to me.
I only moved my head when he moved his, trailing his lips up my chest, my neck, my jaw. Both his hands moved as his head did, coming up to rest on either side of my head.
He tipped me down and I thought he’d take my mouth, but he didn’t.
He stared into my eyes, not moving.
I read what was in his gaze.
He liked that. He liked me being his good girl. He liked me being bad. He liked that we had that. He liked that I got off on it. He liked that I gave it freely. He liked that he could take it from me. He liked we were right there, my ass red, his cock buried inside me, as close as we could get in so many ways, him and me.
On this thought and the fact I liked it too, totally, both his thumbs slid out and he traced my cheekbones.
“Leavin’ you,” he whispered, and I felt every inch of me lock. But Merry didn’t waste any time sharing he wasn’t taking himself away. “You got less than an hour, honey. Shower. Get dressed. I got your pussy all over my jeans. Gonna go home, hit the shower. Change. Be back and I’m takin’ you to Frank’s for lunch.”
I was still full of waffles.
I would eat three of Frank’s fried tenderloin sandwiches to get what Merry was giving me.
He was not fucking around. Date. Meet the kid. Show nearly the entirety of the ’burg he was with me by strolling into a Brownsburg Bulldogs home game, holding my hand.
Now taking me to Frank’s so the rest of that entirety of the ’burg would see it or talk about it, and the fullness of that would go beyond since they’d eventually (but soon) hear about it.
I slid both my hands to the sides of his neck, but I didn’t say anything.
“Get you home by the time your kid gets back,” he finished.
I nodded.
His gaze dropped then lifted.
“Good with your mouth,” he muttered.
I gave his neck a squeeze and said nothing.
“Don’t know which I prefer—my good girl or when she’s bad.”
I felt my lips curl up as my eyelids lowered.
He didn’t miss it.
“She likes to be bad,” he said softly and approvingly. “Gonna test that, Cherie.”
I again made no verbal reply, but he felt my shiver and that was when his lips curled up.
His hands left my head so he could wrap his arms around me as he declared, “You’re right.”
Finally, I spoke.
“About what?”
“This is workin’ great.”
I could actually feel myself melting in his arms, and I knew it was melting even though I’d never done anything like that in my entire life.
“Merry,” I whispered.
“You’re all I said you were and you give great head?” His lip curl turned into a cocky smile. “Definitely workin’ great.”
I sighed in fake annoyance. “A man and his blowjobs.”
“Babe, the act? Awesome,” he stated. “You grabbin’ my hand practically before I could get in your door and draggin’ me to your bedroom so you could shove me on your bed and get your mouth on my dick?” His hold on me tightened slightly. “Awesome.”
“You have a great cock,” I shared.
His hips shifted and his smile didn’t get any less cocky. “It likes you too.”
“Thank God,” I muttered.
He kept smiling, but he did it gently pulling me off him.
He put me on my feet as he straightened from the bed.
“Gonna use your john, then I’m gonna go,” he said. “After that, less than an hour, Cher.”
I nodded.
“Dig Ethan, like spendin’ time with him. But I want my good girl and my bad one all to me again. While I’m away, want you to think on finding us that time and soon, you hear me?”
I nodded again, back to feeling warm and squishy because he was wasting no time letting me know he wanted more of me.
He shifted and I knew he was adjusting his jeans even as he ordered, “Now kiss me.”
I got up on my toes, leaned in, hands to his chest, head tipped back, and I kissed my guy.
It was wet but short.
When he was done, he bent, nabbed my pajama shorts and panties, and handed them to me.
But after I put them on and before he walked out of my room, he bent to touch his lips to my nose.
God.
Merry.
“Less than an hour,” he said softly, then I watched him walk away.
I did it thinking that was mine. All that tall, lean handsomeness. His big dick. Him making my son (and me) waffles. Him wanting my ass in a booth with him at Frank’s so he could show the whole ’burg he was claiming me.
That was all mine.
Forty whole hours, that had been mine.
And I hadn’t fucked it up.
A record.
A record I was going to keep breaking.
Maybe for eternity.
* * * * *
Garrett
Garrett’s phone started ringing before he let himself in his apartment after taking Cher out to lunch at Frank’s, going back to her place and hanging on her couch (mostly making out) until her kid got home, then hanging with Ethan and her until she had to start getting ready for work.