Page 91 of Filthy Hot Escort

She started to lower herself. Cupping her hips again in his hands, he watched and arched his hips. The tip of his cock disappeared inside her. He groaned at being surrounded by her wet heat, then froze.

Fuck. He was bare. “Skylar, we don’t have a condom.”

Her eyes rounded. “I’m on the pill, but . . . ”

He got it. He hated it, but he got it. Knowing what she did about him, she wasn’t going to let his bare cock inside her pussy without a rubber. He didn’t bother telling her that he never fucked without a condom and that he got tested regularly. More than that, he always made sure the women he slept with were clean too, usually by having them submit lab results as proof along with the signed NDI he usually had women sign before he had sex with them. In any event, Julian was glad Skylar was protecting herself.

“Ease off me, baby, while I grab one from my wallet.”

Quickly, she shifted off him. He retrieved his wallet, grabbed a condom, and had it rolled on before he sat back down in her chair. Skylar immediately straddled him again and, without delay, lowered herself until she had the tip of his cock again. He almost laughed at how methodical she was about it— as if she wanted to make sure she had the same amount of his cock inside her as she had before he’d mentioned the condom.

“Is this . . . okay?” she asked, her eyes on their joined bodies.

“It’s the best, Skylar. You only have the tip of me, and it feels so damn good.”

She looked up at him, sex-drunk, her cheeks flushed, her eyes hooded. Her bottom lip was bruised from where she’d bit into it too hard.

“I—this—it feels incredible. Please, I want more.”

“I love that. You begging for more of my cock.” Again, he arched his hips at the same time she lowered herself. He shuddered as her tight pussy milked him, suddenly resisting the intrusion. But he didn’t stop, continuing to push into her, past her body’s defenses, not like a battering ram but with a gentle yet unwavering pressure. He was about halfway inside her when she whimpered, grabbed his wrists, and with one powerful movement, pushed her hips down until she’d taken all of him.

He groaned in delicious agony. Mere seconds later, as he was still adjusting to the feeling of her tight pussy strangling his cock, she eased herself up again. Slowly. Slowly. So slow. She stopped before she lost him completely, and then she lowered herself again but sank only a few inches before easing upward again. She repeated that same sweet torturous slide—down and up, down and up—until she was fucking the top few inches of his cock, her breasts bouncing. He reached down with one hand and squeezed the base of his cock while he used his other hand to squeeze her breast. Even without his hands to guide her, she kept fucking him.

“Look at me,” he commanded, tingling when her honey eyes found his. “That’s it, sweetness, ride. Take whatever you want. I’m yours.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she whispered, “Mine.”

Then she got inventive. She didn’t pick up speed. Didn’t slam herself down on his cock. Instead, she pushed down on him and then pulled up in a steady rhythm, trying out different angles. She rode him shallow as she circled her hips. Then more deeply as she ground against him. She shifted, placed her feet flat on the seat, and squatted, taking his dick that way. Then she alternated deep and shallow thrusts.

He gritted his teeth, letting her do whatever felt good to her, but soon his balls were tingling, and he felt himself on the edge of climax.

No, not going to happen. Not until she was done using his cock like her own personal playground, and despite how much he wanted to come, he hoped it wasn’t for a while.

Suddenly, however, he felt it.

The convulsive fluttering around his cock. He also saw it in the grimace on her face and heard it in her whimpers.

To his shock, she was coming. Quietly. Even gently. But it was happening.

Immediately, he spread his thighs wider, making her thighs spread, too, then he lowered his thumb to manipulate her clit, to add to her pleasure, but she knocked his hand away.

“No,” she said, her voice low and breathy. She shook her head. “Don’t. I want this. Just this.”

He backed off, and she continued riding him, riding him through her orgasm, lifting off his cock before rocking him back in, her movements languid, even lazy. Mesmerized, he watched as she trembled and whimpered. She didn’t shout. Didn’t writhe. Didn’t scream his name. Instead, her expression was one of wonder— of quiet bliss.

Her orgasm might not be the most intense, but it was clearly its own kind of high, one that stretched out longer than normal.

Then it was over. She bowed her head as her breath came in and out of her in quiet pants. He smoothed his hand over her hip and up her sides, undemanding but letting her know he was there for whatever she wanted, be it to ride him again or melt into his arms. She decided to do the latter, pressing her chest to his with a contented sigh. He immediately wrapped his arms around her.

“We did it. I came.”

“You did, princess,” he said, a feeling of both pride and tenderness filling his chest.

Her orgasm had been atypical but, in a way, even more beautiful than if she had screamed. It was almost as if she’d orgasmed in slow motion, and he’d been privileged to watch it happen. He realized now how many details he missed when a woman he was with climaxed under or over him because, usually, it was so frantic, so urgent. But with Skylar, her orgasm had been like one rolling wave after another, with an extended time between each, stringing out her pleasure and giving her plenty of time to savor each one.

She suddenly pushed up, her movements still slow, and kissed him. Then she began rocking on him again. “I want you to come now.”

She didn’t have to convince him.