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eric_foreman) wrote in
alwaysright2009-05-14 10:31 pm
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October 25, 2007
Foreman stepped out of Cuddy's office, closing the door softly behind him, and paused for a moment to look down at the floor, letting out a heavy sigh. Even if Cuddy didn't let it be generally known that she was rescuing from his own fuck-up, House would know just looking at him, and from there it was only a matter of time before the entire hospital knew his business. It wasn't much of an auspicious start for controlling House. Foreman didn't believe for a minute Cuddy's words when she'd still been trying to suck up to him that he was the only one on the team who House respected. Whether it was true or not, Foreman had missed his window of opportunity to actually squeeze something worthwhile out of Cuddy, and he was stuck with unenviable task of reining House in when House definitely didn't want it.
Foreman had had a shitty summer. No job, no relationship after he'd broken up with Wendy. He'd taken the opportunity of some time off to write articles and work on his contacts--he'd even gone to a conference in August, combining it with some long-overdue vacation--but mostly he'd been hitting the pavement, looking for the perfect job. Mercy had been it. He'd only been there a month, and he'd already felt so goddamn confident. This was his in. His chance to make his mark on the field. And he'd had an amazing catch with his lymphoma patient. One glance at her lactic acid level and he'd immediately felt like he'd been struck by lightning. He was so damn sure he was as good as House, able to synthesize the answer from one lab result. And he'd been right--but that wasn't good enough.
The weather outside tonight seemed to echo his feelings. Long, grumbling rolls of thunder accompanied the downpour. Foreman pulled on his overcoat and got his umbrella. On Monday morning he'd be back here, shoved into House's insane little game for hiring a team that Cuddy had explained to him, and he wouldn't want to be here, nor would he be wanted. Until then all he had to do was stew over the situation. Any distraction would be more than welcome, but Foreman couldn't think of much to fill his time with. He headed for the doors, but he didn't walk out right away. He waited just inside the doors, staring out at the weather as if he hoped for some break in the storm. Probably about as likely as a change in his own luck.
Foreman had had a shitty summer. No job, no relationship after he'd broken up with Wendy. He'd taken the opportunity of some time off to write articles and work on his contacts--he'd even gone to a conference in August, combining it with some long-overdue vacation--but mostly he'd been hitting the pavement, looking for the perfect job. Mercy had been it. He'd only been there a month, and he'd already felt so goddamn confident. This was his in. His chance to make his mark on the field. And he'd had an amazing catch with his lymphoma patient. One glance at her lactic acid level and he'd immediately felt like he'd been struck by lightning. He was so damn sure he was as good as House, able to synthesize the answer from one lab result. And he'd been right--but that wasn't good enough.
The weather outside tonight seemed to echo his feelings. Long, grumbling rolls of thunder accompanied the downpour. Foreman pulled on his overcoat and got his umbrella. On Monday morning he'd be back here, shoved into House's insane little game for hiring a team that Cuddy had explained to him, and he wouldn't want to be here, nor would he be wanted. Until then all he had to do was stew over the situation. Any distraction would be more than welcome, but Foreman couldn't think of much to fill his time with. He headed for the doors, but he didn't walk out right away. He waited just inside the doors, staring out at the weather as if he hoped for some break in the storm. Probably about as likely as a change in his own luck.
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They needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
"I said if you want to be a gentleman," Amber said. "But if you want to score big with me, well, don't." She made a show of grinning and biting her lower lip, both to emphasize her point and to make clear that the last thing he should do was treat her like a dainty flower. Though from his own hints, she wasn't worried he would.
Amber was disappointed when Foreman pulled his hand from her face yet again. She knew it wasn't because of herself or her words; it couldn't be, not from the way he'd been growing more and more coiled with the sexual tension he couldn't properly release here. It had to be because of the waiter, and that was a pity. Amber wanted to be seen, by any and everyone, with this gorgeous man; she wanted her happiness and pleasure to be witnessed by all, even by this surly waiter.
Amber paid for her half of the wine and no tip. The waiter's work had been satisfactory once she'd made it clear she wouldn't accept shoddy service, but if he wanted his tip, he should've treated her right from the very beginning. He should be glad she wasn't going to report him to the management!
She picked her peony and let Eric help her slip on her coat. They touched lightly as she slid her arm through one sleeve and then the other; once she was dressed, she leaned her back against his chest and turned her head towards his, her lips parted slightly.
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Once he'd helped her slip her arms into her coat, he drew his hands down her sides to her hips, as if they were dancing again, this time with her back pressed to his chest. He resisted the urge to pull her ass against him--but Christ, she was the perfect height for it, and Foreman couldn't help squeezing tighter as she turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder. Her mouth looked so damn inviting. Foreman barely thought before leaning in to kiss her. He wasn't about to let her pull away too fast this time. On the dancefloor, the first kiss, she'd ended it after barely a breath. This time Foreman pressed his lips against hers firmly, letting his tongue flick out to trace her mouth, tasting her lipstick, inviting her to let him in. He'd forgotten the waiter and anyone else who might be watching. All the night's anticipation felt concentrated in the kiss, until that was all he could think about, his body filling with smug pleasure. Foreman slid his hand around to Amber's stomach, pressing her back against him gently.
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She would've smirked to feel his burgeoning hardness, but she was too busy gasping lightly, opening her mouth further to take in his tongue. And it wasn't as if she were in a position of superiority, her own underwear slippery with wetness. She closed her eyes, overcome with sensation.
Amber vaguely wondered why Eric was now willing to make out with her in front of everyone, when before he'd been shy about it. Had he forgotten they were still in public? Amber hadn't. She imagined who might be watching them, jealous and turned on by their joint hotness. She moaned and kissed all the more fiercely.
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Not here, though. Foreman heard Amber's moan, and damn, he wanted to hear it more--pull sounds and reactions out of her, see just how wild he could drive her. He was sure she'd be more than satisfied, and the ideas of what he'd do, how he'd make her writhe for him, filled his mind. Foreman had to stop this before they really were fulfilling Amber's promise to have sex on the dancefloor. He dragged his mouth away from hers and kissed his way up her neck, bringing up one hand to brush her hair back from her throat. Sucking lightly towards her ear, catching her earlobe in his teeth, to show he was more than fine with returning the nip she'd given him earlier. "We should go," he whispered, before stepping back. He closed his overcoat--Amber would probably laugh at him, knowing why. He took his umbrella and started for the door slowly, waiting to walk with her. He'd need to follow her once they were on the road, and he was too eager to wait any longer than necessary.
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Amber was reminded that Eric could get away with even less than she could when he hastily covered himself up. She didn't hold back a laugh, her cheeks dimpling. It was funny and, more importantly, she loved how much it said about the effect she was having on him. He didn't seem angry or embarrassed, though: the word "smoldering" came to mind, probably thanks to all those romance novels she devoured as a teen.
She grabbed her own umbrella and tucked it into her coat's pocket. "I want you next to me." With her peony-less hand, she slipped an arm around his waist. Even above his many layers of clothes, she could feel the solidness of his frame. Oh, she couldn't wait to see all of him the bared. She pulled him in closer; maybe she could make him have even more to hide before they reached their respective cars.
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He recognized Amber's car and headed for it. Now that they didn't have anyone watching--the parking lot was mostly dark except for a few streetlights and the reflection of the sign above the Blue Velvet--Foreman waited until they got close and then made his move. He pressed Amber against her car and settled in front of her, letting her feel a hint of his weight pushing her back, and leaned in to steal another kiss, keeping the umbrella above them. It was shorter than the last, but hungrier; she had a way of working him up. Foreman only pulled back when he knew he'd rather not get too wet and cold before getting to her place. "I hope you live nearby," he said.
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But making out in cold rain wasn't that much fun. She straightened her back, regaining her balance by holding on to his arm. "Not near enough, but it'll do." She gave him the directions to her home, being as precise as possible: how many traffic lights, which turns when, and what streets take.
She pressed a finger to his mouth, like she had the first time they had separated. They'd done so much more since then, but it felt right, parting with the echo of their first 'promise.' "See you soon, Dr. Eric Foreman." She half-smiled in an alluring smirk. He looked especially handsome in the dark ambiguity of the night, the lamp posts throwing curves of light over his face.
She drove faster home than on her way to the bar. Drinking always made her go faster anyway, and now she also wanted to get there before him, to prepare. She parked on the street so that Eric could see her car and know she lived here. She made sure there was a space for his car-- if there hadn't been, she'd have called and complained to her neighbors. It was amazing how a few numbers and determination easily fixed conflicts like these. There were plenty of places, though, so Amber got out and hurried up the steps to the building.
She quickly lit all the lamps in her apartment for a cozier feel than the overhead lights. She slipped in a "Best of Jazz" CD she saved for occasions like these, and shed her jacket. She made a trip to the bathroom to relieve herself and touch up her makeup. Reapplying her lipstick, she pondered stripping herself entirely, just to see Eric's expression. She grinned at the thought. His jaw would fall straight to the floor! But, no, she wanted him to undress her. She wanted more than a quickie. As she brushed her hair, she imagined just how they might spend the rest of the night.
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He climbed in, checking in his rear-view mirror to see Amber's brakelights come on, and then started the engine. He shook his head at himself, half-amused and half-astonished that all of this was happening so fast. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. If Amber hadn't so clearly wanted him tonight, he'd probably be at home brooding. This was a hundred times better than that, and he was glad of it, but that didn't mean it was the best idea. Even though they worked in different departments, if nothing came of tonight it would be awkward seeing her in the hospital hallways. Still, Foreman could handle that, he was a professional, and he was sure that Amber could, too. Anyway, there was no point in borrowing trouble. Right now he'd rather follow her as closely as he could, and make tonight memorable, no matter what happened after.
Amber beat a red light that Foreman had to stop for, but he remembered her directions well enough. He drove a bit more slowly than he normally would, so that he wouldn't barge in on her in case she was making preparations. Foreman smirked to himself again, picturing exactly what those preparations might involve. He'd calmed down enough to want to savour the evening. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of Amber's address, parking behind her car. He climbed up the steps, seeing the warm glow of lamps from the windows to the left of the main door. He drew himself up and pressed the buzzer, feeling nearly high on his own confidence and on every promise Amber had made so far.
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Anyway, she looked fabulous. Hands on her hips, Amber admired herself from several angles. She not only looked gorgeous, she felt it. She was about to sleep with the first man of her picking, just like that! All she'd had to do was be herself. She was good, yes she was.
She dabbed perfume behind her ears, nothing much, just a hint of it. Anything else she should do before he got here? Drinks she could offer him when he arrived, though she'd had enough dallying, she wanted to reach the main course already. She'd made her bed that morning and nothing needed neatening. Everything they might need for sex was in the bedstand, easy to get. The toys were stored in the closet, but if their chemistry on the dancefloor was any indication, they wouldn't need aids to have mind-blowing sex. That was it, then.
Or not. She needed to make sure she woke up early tomorrow. Wrinkling her nose, Amber set her alarm clock for six-thirty. No matter what happened, she couldn't be late. House could axe her on the spot if she were. Though, she sighed, he might also fire her for being on time.
She was saved from dwlling on House's whims when the buzzer rang. She strode back to her living room and picked up the interphone by her front door. "Hey sexy." She rang him in.
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First things first. Foreman slipped his coat off his shoulders and hung it on a coat stand just inside the door. The living room looked warm, homey, and Foreman was impressed by that, too--even if Amber was keeping up a doctor's ridiculous hours at the hospital, she still had time to actually live in her apartment. It was comfortable, and had a clear sense of her personality. No-nonsense but undeniably alluring. Foreman raised his eyebrows at her, then, and waited to see what Amber would do next. Play the hostess or simply pull him to the bedroom. Foreman wanted her to feel comfortable and in control, not that he had any worries that she'd let this happen any other way; mostly, he was curious, and hoping she felt like he did, that the preliminaries had already been more than adequately addressed.
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But if Eric wasn't wise enough to take what he wanted, she'd take it herself. Amber stalked towards Eric, slowly, her eyes fixed on him. She approached him til they were toe to toe and then stood there for several breaths, motionless, reading him. He seemed eager, excited, and yet he held back. Was he waiting for her initiative?
Without warning she grabbed shirt collar, pulling him to her. She murmured, "Just do me one favor: don't hold back." With one tug his lips were on hers, warm and pliant and wanting.
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Foreman didn't plan to do anything of the sort. He answered the moment she kissed him, remembering the warm taste of her mouth from their kiss in the restaurant. He traced her lips with his tongue and then deepened the kiss. He spread his fingers wider on her hips, then pushed his hands around to cup her ass, pull her tight against his body. He pushed her back, walking with her--like dancing, he thought again. He didn't know the obstacles in her apartment, and he'd only gotten the barest glance behind her. He hadn't exactly had time to chart a course to her bedroom, and he was already absorbed in the kiss. Paying attention to how she responded. Tilting his head to get the perfect angle, then pulling back slightly to suck on her lip before moving back into the kiss. Breathing in the spicy scent of her--stronger, now, and Foreman guessed it was perfume. He glanced up barely before he walked Amber right back into the wall beside the hallway, and slowed them both before he pressed Amber up against it. Not the bedroom, but it would do for the moment. Foreman settled his weight more firmly against her. Jesus, yeah. She might push back--Foreman was already anticipating it--but for now he was on top, in control, and enjoying every second of it. They hadn't lost any of that sparking connection that had made him kiss her like this in the middle of the bar. That feeling that drew him to her. Foreman lifted one hand to cup her cheek and kissed her again.
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She was torn between pressing up against him to feel his body with her own and following his lead backwards. She might have opted to rub back against him, but she was more engaged with kissing him, reacquainting herself with the curve of his lips and exploring his mouth with her tongue. He tasted of their earlier wine, and a bit of something else; she suspected it was his own scent.
Distracted, she let him guide her. She half-wondered where they'd end up and smiled when they reached the wall. Was he too impatient to go all the way to her bedroom? Given their rough play, she was surprised when he cupped her cheek: the tenderness was out of place in this moment. Amber wasn’t prepared for intimacy. Without thinking, she bit Eric’s tongue, sinking her teeth in. Not hard enough to hurt, but more sharply than she had his hand in the bar. It was an overreaction, she knew, but he probably hadn’t noticed.
Amber ran her hands beneath his suit, and she delighted in feeling up his back, the material of his shirt and coat adding to the tactile textures. When she reached his shoulders, she brought her hands to his lapel and stripped him of his jacket. She tossed in the general direction of the nearest couch, not checking if it reached the destination or not. “Much better.” She smirked, looking him over with one layer less. “But it can be even better.” Kissing his jugular, Amber started undoing his shirt’s buttons.
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Foreman shrugged out of his suit coat. "You're making a lot of promises," he said, taunting her lightly, not hiding the quickness of his breathing but not wanting her to think that he was too easy either. He hummed contentedly when she started moving her kisses along his neck. The flutter of her fingers against his buttons turned him on, seeing how intent she was on getting him naked. He wanted to return the favour. See all of her. Every curve he'd felt through her clothes while they were dancing, when he'd pulled her close. He slipped his hands under the hem of her blouse, trailing his fingertips over her stomach, then spreading his palms wider as he continued up. Exploring, cupping her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra, brushing his thumbs across her nipples. Foreman watched her through his eyelashes, looking for her reaction, then pinched one nipple, sharply, through her bra. Not quite revenge, but Foreman had a feeling Amber wanted something spicier than simple caresses. "Is that what you mean by better?" he murmured, tilting his head to whisper the words against her ear.
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Pleasure jolted straight to her clit when Eric's hand started the journey up her blouse, though she tried to remain focused enough to finish unbuttoning his shirt. She was but a couple of buttons short of completing that mission when she threw her head back, a broken gasp forced out of her. He'd pinched her nipple, and it hurt. But her gasp segued into shuddering breaths as she arched into Eric and those fingers tweaking her breast. Her pelvis thrust forward of its own accord and happily met with Eric's own hardness; breathing more heavily, she ground against him once, twice--
But she wanted something else. "It's a start," Amber answered Eric's question, her eyes half-lidded. Her hands flew to undo the last of his buttons and pull off his shirt; this time, she couldn't be bothered to throw it far, she just dropped it. Matters were more urgent now, her nipples and pussy at full alert and demanding proper attention.
Oh, but he was beautiful: toned and sculpted, hairless aside from the patches beneath his arms. Shirt off, his musk was even stronger, and it made Amber light-headed with desire. She greedily palmed his sides and pecs; she had to explore all that carefully, with hand and mouth. There was a black-ink tattoo, too, that she'd have to examine. Maybe she could get the story behind that one. Compare it with her own.
But Amber was goal-oriented, and she'd set herself on one. "We can make it even better, though." Her hands firm on his bare shoulders-- his skin was so smooth-- she decisively pushed him down til he was on his knees, his head was at her chest level. She quickly ripped her blouse over her head and guided his face to the breast he hadn't pinched: he was a smart boy, surely he'd get the message.
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Foreman grunted when Amber pushed at his shoulders. He didn't mind going along with her--especially when she cupped her palm around the nape of his neck and drew him to her breast, only a little faster than he'd meant to go himself. Foreman resisted for a moment, smirking up at her. He kept his hands on her sides, wanting a chance to look. The sight of her was more than arousing, and Foreman could feel his cock beginning to strain against the front of his pants. Amber was half-naked, her breast moving quickly as she breathed, her nipples hard through her bra, her body warm and soft and perfectly curved. Foreman leaned in at last and kissed Amber's stomach before closing his mouth around the nipple she'd wanted him to touch, breathing hotly against her. He ran his tongue over it, teasing, then sucked firmly. Christ, he wanted to hear her moan. Know that he was turning her on. Giving her what she wanted. At the same time, Foreman pressed one hand against her mons, through her skirt, in the same rhythm that he'd been thrusting his hips into hers. It was damn hot, and he wished he could give himself a few firm strokes like that, just enough to keep his frustration in check. Instead, Foreman skimmed his fingertips up her waist, then to her back, reaching for the clasp of her bra and trying to fumble it open--too distracted by the demanding ache in his own groin to open it right away.
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Her hum became an uncontrollable gasp as he took her nipple into her mouth, the whole of her body straining against him, her hands clasping around the back of his head and pressing him closer. “Yes.” She wanted, need more. And she got it, with his hand going over her mons. She cried out: just a bit more, lower and deeper, and-- she cried out again, this time with frustration, as he took his hand away. So close!
She whipped her hands behind her back, impatient with his fumbling, and unlatched her bra. She shrugged it off and pulled it off, letting it fall besides them. Amber then held Eric's face on either cheek, looking down at him; his pupils were dilated, and he was panting just as hard as she. It was exhilarating, seeing his excitement and eagerness.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd lost herself in lust like this, reacting so quickly and strongly. But it was fun, damn it, going wild. And, as far as she could tell, Eric was just as affected as she. He wanted this as much as she did, if not more. She’d keep on letting go of herself.
"Do it," she taunted. "Make me come here, now."
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Foreman surged to his feet. He wasn't going to miss a challenge like this, not after the way she'd called out, wanton and lost in what he was doing, even when it had only been for a moment. He reached behind her, finding the zipper on her skirt with ease, and this time concentrating enough to open it with one swift tug. It fell to her feet in a whisper of fabric. A second later Foreman was dipping his fingers under the waistband of her panties, feeling the incredible heat of her, the slick wetness between her thighs. God, it was amazing. So fucking hot. All for him.
More smug than he could possibly say, Foreman leaned in long enough to murmur, "Anything you say," before he bent down to trace Amber's areola with his tongue. His fingers were already moving, finding her clit and rubbing firmly. He licked across her nipple, moving away and then coming back, wondering if she'd tug him into place the way she had before. Yeah, he'd do anything she said--he was almost surprised at how eager he was to let her guide him--but not right away. Not without challenging her in his turn. Foreman let his fingers slide lower, exploring, before he slipped one finger inside her. He closed his eyes, imagining pushing inside her, feeling her muscles tighten around his cock. It would be so good. Foreman was barely able to keep his voice level as he teased her one last time, lifting his head from her breast to watch her face as he thrust his finger slowly inside her, only occasionally flicking his thumb over her clit. "Looks like you're the one getting that reward," he said, wondering if, in this moment, she even remembered her promise.
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Amber moaned with relief when he finally put his fingers where they should be, damn it, between her legs. She watched his brow furrow with concentration as he touched her; looked down to see his hand slipping into the band of her thong. Oh, god, that was hot. Her view was obstructed when Eric dipped his head to her breasts, and that was okay, because no image was as arousing as the sensation of his tongue on her nipple. He pulled away and came back quickly enough, but Amber wasn't going to tolerate that kind of nonsense, not when she was burning up with need. She held on to the nape of his neck to make sure he didn't deviate again. She hoped he'd bite.
But he wasn't just teasing her with her mouth; the bastard was playing her with his hand. Amber rocked on his fingers, trying to fuck herself on them, since he wasn't having the decency of doing it properly. If she were alone, she'd know exactly where and how to touch herself to reach a fast and satisfying climax. Then again, if she wanted to be alone, she wouldn't be between a wall and Eric, wantonly squirming under his caresses. The frustration was a part of the fun.
By now Amber couldn't stop making noises, gasping and groaning and whimpering. She could hold it all back, if she wanted to, but she didn't. This was so much better, seeing how much her own reactions were affecting him. Feeding off each other's frenzy, they went higher and higher.
When he spoke, Amber's eyes fluttered, taking a moment to process his words. "You'll get your due-- just, now, faster." She ground herself on his hand to make her point even clearer.
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Amber was rocking against his hand, tiny mewling noises escaping her mouth with each frantic push against him, and Foreman couldn't hold back a half-murmured, "So fucking gorgeous," as he brushed a kiss across her lips. She was. Naked against her own living room wall, supported by him as much as he could manage. Her eyes fluttering shut, a warm flush moving high over her cheeks and down her throat, and every sound she made spurred him on. Foreman could feel the quick pull of her breath against his mouth, and he knew he couldn't push her any longer. The more he drew this out, the further away he was pushing the moment when she'd finally touch him. Foreman hooked his fingers in Amber's panties and pushed them down her thighs, and this time, when he touched her, he didn't hold back. He pushed another finger inside her, reaching upwards, searching out her g-spot and starting a quick, hard rhythm, pushing the heel of his hand against her clit. "Yeah, so close," he said quietly. "Come on..." He followed the encouragement with more kisses against her collarbones, then along the pulse in her throat. With his free hand, he reached for her breast again, pinching her nipple lightly, but this time not letting go. Not backing off. "Show me."
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She was soon distracted, however, with an onslaught of sensation as Eric pulled out all the stops. Whimpering slightly, the whole of Amber curved, her back arching, her head falling back, her legs stretching till she was on the tip of her toes. She rode Eric's hand, not even able to think straight, just wanting and wanting. "Oh," she cried, as she peaked higher and higher. "Oh, god--" His insistent pinch over her nipple, his mouth along her throat, the scent of their mixed musk and sweat, it was all too much. Amber reached her limit and came back crashing down, thrashing against him. She wasn't sure what happened next; she probably moaned, rubbed against him, shuddered.
All she knew was that she ended up on Eric, leaning most of her weight against him. She opened her eyes and found herself staring straight into his. What a magnificent shade of brown Eric’s eyes were. How sweet he looked, happy like he'd accomplished the greatest of feats, making her come. How nice it felt, her bare breasts against his naked chest. She knew this dopey and affectionate feeling came from the hormone rush she'd just gotten. But it was okay. She smiled lazily, sated. "Hey there," she said, kissing his cheek.
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"Hey," Foreman said. He slowly pulled his hand away from her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Even that was almost too much. Feeling her against him. He'd been holding himself back, and he was so hard now it nearly hurt. Couldn't wait much longer. Reward or no reward. The sight of her, the scent of her on his fingers, and now the warmth of her body as he held her were all driving him to move this forward. "I assume there's--a bedroom--around here?" he asked, kissing her jaw between words and trying to give her a moment to recover.
Foreman ran his palms down Amber's back, then hitched his hands under her thighs and lifted her up, grinning up at her. He settled her weight against his hips, trying to muffle his gasp as her body pressed against his erection. The sensation, the pressure, was incredible, and he shifted his grasp and let Amber rest back against the wall for a moment as he adjusted his grip. The last thing he wanted to do was drop her. "I never got the tour." He started down the hallway, balancing her, trying his damnedest to concentrate on her, not on the hot, building friction between them every time he took another step.
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But her impatience had spread to him! Now he was the one who couldn’t wait! Amber squealed as Eric hitched her up, and laughed, chest shaking. She was just so happy. If he wanted to keep things fast and hot, she was more than willing to match his pace. She could stay up all night, doing this. In fact, they'd have to, if they were going to do even a fraction of what she wanted!
With a quick maneuver she locked her legs around his thighs, increasing the pressure between their crotches. God, he was so hard, and she'd barely even touched him. Judging from his shallow panting and the way his nails dug into her waist, he was desperate. Hot. Even though she'd just had an orgasm, watching him this crazy for her, she started to feel horny all over again. "First door to the left, you can't miss it," she breathed.
He was so focused, frowning and controlling his breathing. Would they make it to the bed before he came, his pants still on? She had plans for that reward she'd promised, and besides those, oh how she wanted him inside her, his dick sliding through her wetness as they fucked hard. But she was too curious: could she make him come now? "We're gonna need an encore," Amber murmured into his ear before licking its entire length, slowly. She rocked her hip against his erection, grinding as best she could in this precarious set-up. "If I tried to give you your reward now, you wouldn’t last five seconds!”
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If Amber didn't force his own orgasm out of him first. She licked at his ear, her warm tongue contrasting with the cool air as she breathed on the wet trails she'd left. The shivers seemed to connect straight to his dick, her words echoing exactly what he'd already been thinking. "Hey," Foreman protested weakly. He didn't like hearing that she thought he couldn't last. Even if she was right. "At least twenty." There was no way Foreman would tell Amber that she was going to make him come in his pants, but it seemed like she already knew it. He took another few steps, the pleasure increasing with each one. God. He couldn't help pushing against her, again and again, rubbing off with every step. Felt so fucking good. He was determined to make it, though, and he turned slightly, pushing Amber's bedroom door open with his shoulder and then stepping across to the bed. His arms were starting to shake. He had to let Amber down, but he did it slowly, feeling every inch of the contact as she slid over his body.
It might not be suave, but Foreman was already reaching for his fly. He was going to get them tangled in his shoes if he wasn't careful, and he wasn't going to make a fool of himself by tripping over his own pants. He toed off his shoes and yanked his fly down. He was panting, wanting Amber to touch him, wanting to get free of his boxers. A few seconds later, he'd managed it, all of it while--he hoped--only looking mildly ridiculous. Naked, he stepped forward again, and reached for her.
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While he was busy stripping himself of his last bits of clothes, Amber dug into her bed stand drawer, grabbing a condom and her water-based lube. They could do anything, but the less work they set up for later, the safer would be whatever they ended up doing. Amber waved the items in either hand, smirking. "Time to choose, Dr. Eric Foreman: fuck me now? Or will you take your reward? Though if you'll allow me to be so bold, I suggest doing me first: you'll enjoy your reward better if you're not, uh, quite so aroused. And depending on how you hold up, you can always fuck me again." She teased, purposefully increasing her politeness to contrast how he was standing naked before her, his dick straining upwards, all of him twitching for her touch. It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at him without clothes, and what a sight. She could watch him all day, the way his chest rose and fell, the tone of his muscles, the intensity of his gaze. She felt powerful, the object of so much desire.
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