to climax three seconds after he started circling his hips, grinding his pelvic bone on the spot that had me buzzing and twitching like a live wire.
I’d never been with a musician before, but Jesus Christ…Lucas’s rhythm and timing were fucking phenomenal. Not to mention the way he moved, with perfect control and a muscular, predatory grace.
“Oh my God.” Panting, I ran my hands all over his body, his arms and neck and back, his perfect ass, digging my fingernails into his flesh, my body on fire. “I’m trying so hard not to scream in your ear.”
“I’ll be insulted if you don’t.”
I laughed, and then cried out as he began to thrust harder and faster. A strangled moan sounded at the back of his throat, and I brought my knees up to take him deeper.
“Oh yes,” I whimpered. “Yes, Lucas. Yes. Yes!” With each word, my volume rose, the storm within me raging stronger. “Oh my God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
And then, the most incredible thing in the world—Lucas’s ragged breaths became pants and then primal sounds and then loud, uncontrollable shouts every time he rocked into me, and I realized it was possible we were going to come together, like at the same time . Like in a fucking book or a movie!
Suspended just before the peak of my orgasm, I willed my body to wait for him, and the few seconds I lingered there were equal parts agony and rapture, such that I nearly wept with the effort. Finally, I could bear it no longer and sailed over the top, screaming his name as I pulled him into me, my face buried in his neck, my body tightening around his.
And it happened. It fucking happened.
Just as the rhythmic contractions of my body subsided, Lucas buried himself deep inside me and I felt his cock begin to throb. He moaned long and hard, his movement reduced to tiny little thrusts that redoubled the strength of my climax. Wave after wave after wave of unspeakable pleasure coursed through my body, and I imagined it coursing through his too, as if we were sharing the same current of sexual electricity. My mouth hung open in utter shock, and stars—no, entire fucking galaxies—exploded in front of my eyes.
Eventually our bodies stilled and our hearts stopped threatening to burst right out of our chests, but I still couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.
Not only had I just had the best sex of my entire life, including two name-screaming, hair-pulling, sheet-clawing orgasms, but I’d learned something.
The simultaneous O.
Was not. A myth.
#
“Again,” I demanded.
“Again? I’ve done it twice already.”
“Again. I can’t get enough.”
Lucas rolled his eyes but strummed the opening chords to La Vie En Rose once more on his guitar, and I gleefully clapped my hands. We were sitting on the floor in the living room sharing a plate of grapes—they’re called raisins in French, how weird is that?—and tearing off pieces of a baguette that Lucas said was from yesterday so it was too old to eat, but it tasted fine to me. Better than fine. In fact, I declared it Best. Baguette. Ever.
I was experiencing a bit of Post Second Orgasm Euphoria.
“I want to know what the lyrics mean.” I popped another grape in my mouth. “I think you should sing it for me too this time.”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t really know the lyrics by heart or I would, although I’m not a very good singer.”
I smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t be critical. You have plenty of other talents.”
Grinning, Lucas strummed one more chord before muting the strings with his hands. “Wait.” Getting to his feet, he laid the guitar on the couch and went into the bedroom. He returned with a laptop, set it on the little table in front of the window, and opened it up.
While he searched for the song, I started to brush the crumbs off the button-down shirt he’d given me to put on, but then I felt guilty since his floors were so clean. Getting to my feet, I picked up the hem of the shirt so they
I’d never been with a musician before, but Jesus Christ…Lucas’s rhythm and timing were fucking phenomenal. Not to mention the way he moved, with perfect control and a muscular, predatory grace.
“Oh my God.” Panting, I ran my hands all over his body, his arms and neck and back, his perfect ass, digging my fingernails into his flesh, my body on fire. “I’m trying so hard not to scream in your ear.”
“I’ll be insulted if you don’t.”
I laughed, and then cried out as he began to thrust harder and faster. A strangled moan sounded at the back of his throat, and I brought my knees up to take him deeper.
“Oh yes,” I whimpered. “Yes, Lucas. Yes. Yes!” With each word, my volume rose, the storm within me raging stronger. “Oh my God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
And then, the most incredible thing in the world—Lucas’s ragged breaths became pants and then primal sounds and then loud, uncontrollable shouts every time he rocked into me, and I realized it was possible we were going to come together, like at the same time . Like in a fucking book or a movie!
Suspended just before the peak of my orgasm, I willed my body to wait for him, and the few seconds I lingered there were equal parts agony and rapture, such that I nearly wept with the effort. Finally, I could bear it no longer and sailed over the top, screaming his name as I pulled him into me, my face buried in his neck, my body tightening around his.
And it happened. It fucking happened.
Just as the rhythmic contractions of my body subsided, Lucas buried himself deep inside me and I felt his cock begin to throb. He moaned long and hard, his movement reduced to tiny little thrusts that redoubled the strength of my climax. Wave after wave after wave of unspeakable pleasure coursed through my body, and I imagined it coursing through his too, as if we were sharing the same current of sexual electricity. My mouth hung open in utter shock, and stars—no, entire fucking galaxies—exploded in front of my eyes.
Eventually our bodies stilled and our hearts stopped threatening to burst right out of our chests, but I still couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.
Not only had I just had the best sex of my entire life, including two name-screaming, hair-pulling, sheet-clawing orgasms, but I’d learned something.
The simultaneous O.
Was not. A myth.
#
“Again,” I demanded.
“Again? I’ve done it twice already.”
“Again. I can’t get enough.”
Lucas rolled his eyes but strummed the opening chords to La Vie En Rose once more on his guitar, and I gleefully clapped my hands. We were sitting on the floor in the living room sharing a plate of grapes—they’re called raisins in French, how weird is that?—and tearing off pieces of a baguette that Lucas said was from yesterday so it was too old to eat, but it tasted fine to me. Better than fine. In fact, I declared it Best. Baguette. Ever.
I was experiencing a bit of Post Second Orgasm Euphoria.
“I want to know what the lyrics mean.” I popped another grape in my mouth. “I think you should sing it for me too this time.”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t really know the lyrics by heart or I would, although I’m not a very good singer.”
I smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t be critical. You have plenty of other talents.”
Grinning, Lucas strummed one more chord before muting the strings with his hands. “Wait.” Getting to his feet, he laid the guitar on the couch and went into the bedroom. He returned with a laptop, set it on the little table in front of the window, and opened it up.
While he searched for the song, I started to brush the crumbs off the button-down shirt he’d given me to put on, but then I felt guilty since his floors were so clean. Getting to my feet, I picked up the hem of the shirt so they
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