Tenure

51. James

51

James

Her pussy is spasming around my fist, her wetness dripping down my wrist.

My good, perfect girl . . .

She looks like she’s in ecstasy, her semi-suspended body shaking, her muscles rippling with tension as her orgasm rips through her, pussy muscles frantically trying to shove me out of her, finding pleasure in the resistance, amping her up even more . . .

I feel her build up around my fist for another orgasm, a rivulet of sweat running down her neck, and just as she’s about to come again, just as I can feel her entire body seize up, I yank my fist out of her, stretching her entrance one last time, and she fucking explodes.

She squirts everywhere, drenching her pajamas and the outdoor patio rug, her chest heaving and legs essentially limp.

“Want to join us for a drink?”

I watch as another stream pours out of her.

“I’m good right here,” I say.

She whimpers and goes completely limp, so I wrap my arms around her thighs to help hold her up and keep the pressure off her shoulder sockets. As I slide up her body while supporting her weight, her head tips forward onto my shoulder, breath hard and hot on my neck.

“You need to stand for a minute baby,” I whisper. “So I can undo your wrists.”

She wobbles a little as she puts her weight in her legs, but I make quick work of undoing her and she collapses into me, sagging like she’s just a bag of skin and bone.

“You sure you don’t want to join us for a drink?”

I look at Kiernan, pink and sweaty and half naked, clutching my shoulders, unable to speak yet.

“Move in with me,” I whisper.

She takes a deep breath and tests her ability to stand. She seems able to support her weight—sort of, anyway, kind of like a baby deer—and then pulls back her hand and slaps me so hard it echoes off the other high-rise buildings.

I open my mouth to speak but she clamps her hand over it, a gleam in her eye.

“We could use a drink,” she calls.

“Who’s that?” the guy yells.

Kiernan looks at me for a long time.

“I’m your new neighbour,” she says.