“You can’t just order somebody to gain weight,” she informed him. “That’s not how it works.”
“For what I’m paying you, that better be exactly how it works. In fact, you can start eating dinner with me, so I know you’re working on getting those curves back.”
Somehow this was oddly flattering after Wayne’s insistence that she workout every single day, even when she was sick, so she “didn’t get fat like some of the other attorneys’ wives.”
But then he grabbed her butt and all thoughts of Wayne went away.
“You’ve still got this,” he said, referring to her plump derriere. The weight loss had hit her every place but there, and Beau massaged her backside like an old friend. But he didn’t stay there too long. Soon his hand was gliding around her hip, his fingers, searching, searching until they found…
Her breath caught.
“You stopped narrating. Tell me what you see.”
“What?” she said.
“Tell me what you see,” he repeated.
“Um, um, your hand on my kit kat.” She let out another gasp, when two of his large fingers parted her folds. “And now your fingers are going in there, going inside me.”
“How do they feel?”
“Big… tight—I mean, they’re making my kit kat feel tight.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent picture, but a dark smile shadowed his lips like she was saying exactly what he wanted to hear. “I can feel you clenching around me. Do you know how hard that makes me?”
He kissed her before she could answer and said, “Touch me, too.”
She could have acted disingenuous, demurely touched his chest or his arms like she didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but the liquid heat his fingers had stirred up came to a boil inside of her and her innocence seemed to evaporate. She fumbled open the buttons on his jeans, reached in, and soon brought his manhood out, thick, rigid, and dripping with pre-cum. Fascinated, she stroked the magnificent beast in her hand, watching more clear fluid ooze out the tip.
“Fuck, yes, darlin’,” he said. “But narrate it for me, tell me what you see.”
With his fingers still thrusting into her, relentless and steady, she could barely breathe much less talk, but she did her best.
“My hand on… your big finger. I’m stroking it up and down… and it’s getting bigger.”
He slipped two more fingers inside her, and she had to stop. A tide unlike anything she’d ever experienced when she used her own fingers on herself was building inside of her. She moaned. “I can’t talk anymore,” she gasped out. “I can’t… ohhhhh!”
“Don’t close your eyes,” he growled. “I want you to watch. Tell me what’s happening.”
“I’m— I’m stroking you. And you’ve… you’ve got four fingers in me now.” She watched his fingers moving in and out of her in a daze. She saw herself clenching around his hand, almost seeming to suck his fingers back in every time they moved out. “It feels so… so… so… good.”
She let out a loud moan and watched herself cream his fingers. “I’m coming! I’m coming so hard, I can see myself dripping all over your hand.”
She said this with helpless disbelief. She wasn’t trying to send him over the edge, but that was exactly what she did.
“Josie,” he said, almost like an accusation. His dick jerked in her hand, and then big ropes of cum spurted out, splashing across her arm.
She held on to it, so enthralled by the sight she didn’t think to let go until his dick stopped spasming and she realized out loud, “You’re still hard!”
His answer was to turn away from her and reach for his nightstand. He knocked a lamp over sideways before finding the drawer and yanking it open. He pulled out a small, red package and apparently Beau had done this so many times he didn’t need to be able to see to put on a condom, because he was sheathed in one moment, and on top of her the next.
Josie relaxed. The unexpected bout of foreplay had thrown her for a loop, but simple missionary she was familiar with.
She waited for him to move on top of her a few times then roll over like Wayne used to, but he guided his manhood over her still quivering slit carefully, before sinking into her.
“Josie,” he whispered before he began slowly, oh-so-slowly, moving inside of her.
She moaned and started moving too, wanting more of him inside. And when he raised her leg, placing it over his shoulder, opening her up even wider so he could sink in all the way to the hilt, it felt like he was answering her unspoken wish.
He was so good in bed, Josie could hardly believe it. If she hadn’t known better, she’d think he’d been waiting a long time to do this with her. He seemed to be savoring the moment, savoring her, savoring the fire they were once again building together.
Or maybe it was just her. It had been so long since she’d felt like this: truly turned on and not just a halfway-willing participant.
“Beau,” she moaned, when the fire reached a fever pitch. “Oh, my God, Beau!”
She came undone again, clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Then Beau fell on top of her, kissing her, and pumping into her afterglow until his entire body seized up, and he groaned out his release.
A few minutes later he rolled off of her, sprawling on his side of the large bed with his arms and legs spread wide.
They lay there quietly for a few seconds, then he said, “Big finger?”
Josie giggled, feeling like a girl half her age, almost literally, like she was seventeen again and just as wide-eyed over Beau Prescott as she used to be. “I didn’t know what else to call it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to come up with something better than that,” he said. “That’s even worse than kit kat.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Whatever you say, Mr. Prescott.”
They both laughed a little more, then fell silent again. Josie began to feel awkward. Should she leave? Wasn’t there an old saying about how men didn’t pay women to have sex with them, they paid them to leave afterwards?
But then he reached for her. “Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms and curling a hand around her head, so she had no choice but to lie on his chest.
A few minutes later, she got up the nerve to ask. “Do you want me to go back to my bed? I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”