Falling Into Routine
Copyright© 2025 by ChillWriter338
Chapter 15: Friction Points and Fault Lines
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 15: Friction Points and Fault Lines - Childhood friends looking for true love and ready to start a family deny how perfect a couple they would make together by getting as close as possible. The secret plan to keep from falling into each other's arms - follow the same routine. Re-write so read from the beginning.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction FemaleDom Light Bond Polygamy/Polyamory Black Male Hispanic Female Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Big Breasts Size 2nd POV Slow
Carla kept her eyes on Eli as she moved through his living room, not bothering to pick up the blouse she’d dropped earlier. She wasn’t stalking, exactly. But she was circling something she wasn’t ready to face.
He stood shirtless in the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink like everything was normal. Like she hadn’t just whispered how badly she wanted him again ten minutes after they finished the last round.
“You’re still hard,” she murmured.
Eli looked over his shoulder, smiled, and reached for a towel. “Maybe I’m still thinking about how you kissed me when you came.”
She swallowed and stepped forward, barefoot, the hem of his boxers riding high on her thighs. “Or maybe you just like seeing me beg.”
“I haven’t seen you beg.”
“Yet.”
They didn’t make it to the bedroom. Carla kissed him hard, then dropped to her knees and pulled his waistband down.
“Fuck,” she whispered when she saw him fully again. “¿Cómo sigues así?” How are you still like this?
Eli opened his mouth but nothing came out. Carla gripped his thighs and took him into her mouth, slow and deep, until he hissed and braced himself on the counter.
“Trágatelo,” she said between strokes, her voice almost a growl.
He tried. Her hands never left him. Her mouth moved like a promise.
When she pulled back, he reached for her, but she shook her head. “No. You’re not done.”
She tugged him toward the dining room, climbing onto the table. Her back arched as she spread her legs. “Look at me, Eli.”
He stepped between her thighs, kissed the inside of her knee, and pushed in slowly.
She cried out, grabbed his hair. “Mírame cuando te vienes.”
His eyes stayed locked on hers until he shattered.
They collapsed onto the couch, sweaty and breathless. Carla curled against him, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
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