"Hah hah," Amber intoned, exaggerating rolling her eyes so that he'd see. But this horny and so close to what she wanted, it'd take more than a bad joke to ruin her mood. And it was flattering. "I'm your best outfit." That brought the wonderful idea of Eric 'wearing' her in public. Now there was an enthralling image.

But not, perhaps, as enthralling as the one before her, of Eric laughing and warm and bright. Amber didn't get to see him this happy nearly often enough. If she weren't so intent on getting the condom on and propping herself, she'd have stroked his face, kissed his cheek.

And then she was sliding on to him and he was so hot and hard Amber barely kept herself from making more sounds. Eric, god, looked as torn as she, his eyes wide and mouth open, unable to let out all the moans she knew were in him. She wasn't sure she could take more and still be silent, but then it was Eric moving things forward, pulling her closer and thrusting up and Amber whimpered. Her gaze caught the flex of his abdomen, the lifting of his shoulders. Yes, that's what they needed, more: she held out her hands, ready to embrace him.

And then the bed gave a creak louder than any noise either one had so far. Jesus, anyone in the house would've heard that. But it was okay. One squeak, that was normal. It could be just someone sitting on the edge. Her bed never had been a problem before. "C'mere," Amber said softly, adamant this not ruin anything. She rocked her hips again. "See, no problem--" She came down harder than before and the bed groaned again. "Fuck," Amber spat out, running her hand through her hair. "I am not stopping," she whispered through gritted teeth. She was wet and ready and they were going to fuck.