She doesn’t disappoint, color flooding her cheeks as she gives me a tiny shake of her head.

 “I don’t have any,” she says, glancing at my erection with a look of regret. “There’s a CVS about a mile away,” she says softly. “Really close,” she adds with a hint of doubt in her voice, as if there’s a chance in hell that I’d choose to go home instead of fucking her. This girl.

 “I have some in my wallet,” I tell her, and she smiles, relieved. With her rear pulled to the edge of the bed, I bend her knees and spread her legs wide before stepping between them. She groans and arches her back, her fists clutching the bedspread on each side of her hips. I take my time looking at her: her flushed face, her tits, the tiny curve of her stomach and finally, lower. She’s got a small triangle of hair and it makes my dick throb. It’s not much, not terribly more than a landing strip and a shade darker than her blonde hair, but I can’t stop looking at it. I move my hand to the top of it and trace around the triangle with the tip of my finger, knowing it’s going to drive me crazy knowing that this is what she’s hiding beneath her demure clothing at work; the memory of it will be imprinted on my brain every time I see her in the office.

 Her fists clench the bedspread again and she makes a tiny indiscernible noise in the back of her throat, then turns her head to the side. There’s my shy girl again.

 I toss my glasses on her nightstand and bend to suck a nipple between my lips, my cock resting on the soft skin of her stomach as I do. I lap my tongue along the underside of her breast, then bite her nipple and she groans, the sound music to my ears. Her hands move from the bed to my shoulders, her touch tentative at first, growing increasingly confident as I palm one breast then the other, alternating with my mouth. Her tits are perfect, just the tiniest bit small in my large hands, and I find that I like that—the weight and feel of them ideal, her nipples rock hard as I roll them between my lips and fingers. One of her hands slides down from my shoulder, her palm resting against my chest as I drag my mouth back to hers, so I wrap my hand on top of hers and move it lower, wrapping her fingers around the length of me, moving her thumb to the pre-cum that is waiting. She sucks in a breath and rubs the pad of her thumb across me and it feels fucking fantastic having her hands on me. I tilt my head just enough so I can watch. Her nails are painted dark, navy or purple—I don’t know or care—but it outlines her thumb perfectly as it moves across my cock, and that I like very much. She jerks me softly with her hand, as women tend to do, never quite as aggressive with their grip as I am with my own.

 “Harder,” I tell her and her eyes fly to mine, widening in surprise. Her grip tightens as she holds my gaze and I dip my forehead to hers as I slip a finger inside of her. She’s wetter than I expected and she instantly squeezes around my finger, making my cock jump in her grip.

 I slip my finger halfway out and slide two back in. Her eyelids droop and her breathing increases. I know that I could make her come in the next minute or two, but suddenly I’m on sensory overload. Sandra overload. Her flushed cheeks, her eyes, the tiny gasps coming out of her mouth. It’s too much. Too fucking much. If I look at her face while she comes, the next thing I know I’ll be staying for breakfast. Not happening.

 I slide my fingers out of her and flip her over face down before she has a chance to react—her ass on the end of the bed, legs dangling over.

 “Kneel on the edge,” I instruct before sucking her off my fingers. Another mistake. Now I’ll be remembering what she tastes like and what she looks like naked. She brings one leg up, then the other until she’s on the bed before me, the height perfect. I have a moment of regret—I wanted to watch her tits bounce while I fucked her—but this view is good too.

 I reach for my pants and grab a condom, rolling it over myself. I should have made her do it before I flipped her over; I’d have liked to watch her fumble with it, because there is no way she wouldn’t have, at least a little.

 Bending down, I kiss the small of her back and she turns her head, her blonde hair falling to one shoulder as she does. She smiles at me, her cheeks flushed, before turning back and dropping to her elbows, her bottom pushing back towards me with the movement. I palm myself and guide the tip of my cock between her folds and nudge into her. She pushes back eagerly—I like that—but I refrain from slamming into her in one thrust, because the feeling of her separating for my dick is intoxicating and I want to enjoy every inch of the slide in. She’s warm and wet—and tight. I’m watching myself half inside of her and when she wiggles her ass the tiniest bit, trying to encourage me to sink deeper, I almost lose it and give her what she’s asking for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to pound the fuck out of her, but I’m not a goddamned teenager so I won’t be rushed.

 I slide out an inch and then back in two, continuing the slow descent into her body as I place my hands on her hips. I like the feel of her under my hands; she’s soft and smells faintly like cinnamon. Her curvy ass leads into a much smaller waist and I follow it with my hands, running them up her slender sides before I dip down and palm her tits as I bottom out inside of her.

 She gasps and rocks forward a fraction to ease the size of me. “You’re beautiful,” I say before I realize it’s coming out of my mouth. What the fuck am I saying? I let go of her tits before she can respond and grip her shoulders. Then I pull back and thrust into her so hard she’d be face down on the bed if I wasn’t gripping her shoulders. She is beautiful, but that’s not what this is. I’m fucking her, not making love to her.

 After that it’s nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and tiny groans and sighs coming from her mouth while I pound into her. There’s several ‘Oh my God, Gabe’s coming out of her mouth and when she comes her pussy grips me so tight I wonder if it’s possible to get a bruise on my dick. Worth it. I thrust for another minute before coming myself. Sandra’s long since given up on her elbows supporting her and is splayed on the bed in front of me. She flips over and looks at me after I pull out of her, her expression sated and happy and a bit wondrous.

 And because I’ve never been more interested in staying after I’ve fucked someone…

 I leave.