Risque

Chapter Twelve

So, I'm sorry for the long wait. I've been super busy with work and school and well, a sex life of my own. Can't keep that boy's hands off me (;  so here is a sort of steamy chapter as an apology. MATURE CONTENT - you know the drill.

 Chapter Twelve

          I woke up, feeling exhausted, but entirely too aroused to sleep. I could hear Archer snoring faintly. I felt too bad to wake him up; he had to be exhausted. I rolled over, trying to get comfortable enough to ignore the heat between my thighs.

          I felt Archer roll over, spooning me from behind, his warm arms wrapping around my waist. He grinded against my core lightly, and I moaned. I slapped a hand over my mouth, trying to be quiet. I really didn’t want to wake up Archer. He must be drained; it was three am, and we’d only fallen asleep an hour ago.

          I tried scooting a little further away from him to avoid further embarrassment on my part. He scooted closer, grinding again, and I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from moaning again.

          “Sweetheart, I’m not asleep,” Archer’s husky voice whispered into my ear, and I jumped. He chuckled, and I smacked him lightly. He hovered above me, and pecked my lips.

          “I didn’t want to wake you,” I replied.

          “Why?”

          “I just figured you had to be tired,” I shrugged, “I keep waking you up.”

          “Princess, your needs come before mine. I don’t need to sleep. Besides, when you wake me up, it’s not like you’re the only one that gets pleasure,” he waggled his eyebrows.

          “Well, since you’re awake,” I trailed off, hoping he’d get the picture.

          “What?” he asked, smirking and kissing a trail down my stomach, going lower and lower.

          “Archer,” I sighed.

          “Is there something you want to ask me?” he said cockily, “Did I just turn the innocent virgin into a sex addict?”

          “No!” I spat.

          “Well, then, you don’t have anything to ask me?” he asked, pulling my thighs apart, and kissing my inner thighs. I gasped slightly as his tongue flicked my entrance.

          “Archer,” I moaned as he licked my core. He was a sex god. I do not think there could ever be anyone as good at this as Archer. He built me up, one flick of the tongue away from an orgasm, and he stopped.

          “Archer!” I panted.

          “What? You want something?” he asked, his lips pecking mine. My chest was heaving and I was beyond sexually frustrated. I glared at him. He went down on me again, his tongue teasing me, but not finishing me off.

          “Archer,” I begged.

          “Say it,” he said, “Beg.”

          “Fuck me!” I yelled, frustrated, and he smirked. He pulled his head up and kissed me, slamming himself into me, and I moaned, almost at my climax.

          “Sweetheart, all you had to do was ask,” he winked, and I rolled my eyes at the world’s most frustrating, sexy guy.

---

I wasn’t really sure what time it was, but, for once, I honestly didn’t care that much. We’d been at it all night, and I felt like I’d only gotten an hour of sleep. I was happy, happier than I’d ever felt.

          I looked over at Archer, sleeping peacefully with the occasional snore. I knew he had to be exhausted. Sex is supposed to take a lot out of a guy, or at least that’s what Cosmopolitan says is the reason behind guys falling asleep right after sex.

          I slowly untangled our limbs and walked into the en-suite bathroom after slipping on Archer’s shirt. It hurt a little, down there, when I walked, an obvious reminder of last night’s endless mind blowing sex. My muscles were a little sore, as well.

          I looked in the mirror, trying to decide if there was any physical difference that showed I was no longer a virgin. The only thing I came up with was the fact that my hair was tied into knots, my neck was scattered with a few hickeys. I could see his mark from last night, a pink raised scar.

          “Hey princess,” a very naked Archer, walked groggily into the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around my waist, looking at our reflection in the mirror. It was oddly comforting to see us together. I turned around, facing him.

          “How do you feel?” he asked after claiming my lips with his for a deep, passionate kiss, “Are you sore?”

          “A little,” I admitted, “But it’s not bad.”

          “I’m sorry,” he said, and kissed me again.

          “It’s not your fault,” I smiled, “I think you need some pants.”

          “Sweetheart, you’ve done a little more than just see it all,” he chuckled, “But I think you need to take off my shirt, which, by the way, you are welcome to take my clothes all the time, because you look sexy.”

          I laughed, and he pulled me back to bed.