The Bloody City by Megan Morgan Page A

hand on.
    She’d sucked him off a handful of times in the past few weeks, so it was more of the same, and he didn’t seem in the mood for it. After a short time, he urged her off. She barely had time to catch her breath before he pushed her back on the bed and crawled on top of her. He kicked his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off.
    “We don’t have a condom,” she said. “Not like either of us has been banging anyone else, but…”
    “I told you, this might be the last time I get to do this. I have nothing to lose.”
    “I have things to lose. Like my childless status.”
    “Guess we’ll have to improvise, then.”
    He pushed a hand between her legs. She gasped as he pushed his fingers into her, and she got an idea of how wet she actually was. She clenched around his fingers, aching, needing.
    “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “Do you trust me?”
    “Of course I trust you.”
    She grunted as he pushed deeper, the pleasure almost too hard and sharp. No more fingers, no more tongue. He’d better give her the cock this time, something real and solid and hard.
    “Micha.” She gripped his hair. “Don’t tease me. You better fuck my brains out.”
    He pulled his fingers out and she was slick, hot.
    “Please,” she whispered, close to his lips.
    She feared as per usual when they got this far, he would go wishy-washy—roll away, say he couldn’t do this right now, he was too distracted, too upset, and she would understand and placate. Instead, he pushed her knees back, and she held her breath. He seemed ready this time, his body at least.
    She gasped when the hot bare head of his cock pressed against her. He held still for a moment, hovering over her, and balanced on one arm with his other hand between them, holding his cock to guide himself in. Then he pushed.
    He went in smooth and easy. She clenched around him, relieved, ecstatic.
    “Micha.” She gritted her teeth, twisting the blanket next to her hip. “Oh, fuck…yes…”
    He braced his hands on the mattress, his face lost in shadow above her. “You all right?”
    She let out her breath as he eased a few more inches in. “I’m great.”
    He took it easy at first, giving her time to adjust. He had himself angled perfectly, a blunt nudging against just the right spot, and she flattened a hand on his chest to even out his rhythm.
    “Don’t come inside me,” she warned.
    “I won’t. I promise.”
    She relaxed and took her hand off his chest. He hooked her knees over his elbows and started pounding into her.
    “Ah!” Her pleasure flared, brilliant and intense. “This won’t last long.”
    “You’re telling me.”
    He gave her a double whammy, playing with her clit ring and sucking at one of the barbells through her nipples. He pounded into her, the way he used to, the bed squeaking and thumping against the wall. She had to bite her lip hard to keep from screaming.
    Her mind drifted as she gazed up at the darkened ceiling, as he rocked her against the mattress. Her thoughts ran to unbidden, unexpected places. The vision of Sam lying in bed with Muse flashed sudden and bright into her brain. Not Muse next to him, though. Her. In bed next to him, pressed against him.
    What? No, no, no. Stop.
    She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She focused on the feel of Micha’s cock pounding inside her, his fingers on her clit. His other hand gripping her wrist above her head.
    Sam’s hand gripping her wrist on the stairs.
    She forced herself back into the moment. “Micha,” she groaned, half in guilt, half trying to focus.
    Sensation overloaded her senses. His deep, hard thrusts shook her to the core. He knew how to work her ring, teasing her to the edge. The intensity built, higher and higher, stealing her breath, making her claw at the blanket.
    “Micha!”
    Sam.
    She came, clenching hard around him, her body jerking almost convulsively. She yanked at the blanket, yanked at his hair.
    “Yes,” Micha gasped, dripping sweat across her cheek.