Chris Hemsworth: Sex God

When he began to pull out it was as though her entire body was following him, the sliding sensation made her gasp and clutch at him. Then he began to push back in, slowly, insistently, spreading her back open for him. Angel groaned and pulled her knees upwards, bending them and spreading her thighs wide for him. The length of him was almost too much for her to bear, but she wanted to feel all of it... he bumped against her cervix, making her shudder, as he pressed his groin against her pussy lips, rubbing his body up and down and creating a friction against her clit that drove her absolutely wild.

"FUCK," she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. Then he grabbed her wrists, as much as he liked feeling her going wild, and pushed them above her head. Circling both wrists with one hand, he held her there like that as his other hand began to toy with her boob, her body writhing underneath his as his hips began a slow erotic pounding.

The glazed look in Angel's eyes didn't stop her body from responding, pushing back against his, her pussy contracting constantly and squeezing him as he rode her. Her wordless cries started to dissolve into breathless entreaties.

"Oh Chris... fuck, harder... oh please..." Her body shivered beneath his, hips pressing upwards as she began to build towards another orgasm, the undeniable rhythm of her movements spurring both of them onwards. "FUCK! Oh Chris... Fuck... CHRIS!" As she cried out his name he started to swell inside of her, growing harder, thicker, and Angel practically had a convulsion around him. A man getting off inside of her was one of the sexiest sensations in the world. Her wrists pushed against his hand as she stretched out beneath him, back arching, ecstasy sweeping through her as her muscles tensed and released. Chris' thrusts became erratic, hard shoves that took her breath away as she screamed her orgasm. His own curses and muffled cries of her name intermingled with her voice, their bodies rocking together as they wrung every last spasm from the other.

Eventually Chris released her wrists and her hands drifted down to cradle his head against hers, their lower bodies still moving, just barely, slowly. Occasional aftershocks made Angel clench and shudder against him, or Chris tense and push deeper into her. They tended to set each other off.

When he finally rolled off of her, Angel cuddled up to him, finding the nook between his chest and his shoulder where she could snuggle her head into. Chris curled his arm around her, both of them sighing with satisfaction. It didn't take too long before they were asleep.

******

Angel snuck out a few hours later, completely sated and feeling wonderful. She looked at the sleeping Chris. God he was gorgeous. But she hated the morning after dance, and besides she didn't want him to think that she was pressuring him for anything more. Tonight had been perfect. Wonderful. A memory that she would treasure.

Trying to pretend that she was the heroine of a romance novel where the intensely gorgeous, rich and famous hero falls for a normal girl wasn't her style. Take what life gives you and be happy with it. Right now she was supremely happy.

Dropping a soft kiss on his lips, Angel left the short not that she'd written him and ghosted out of the room and back to her real life.

****

When Chris woke in the middle of the night, stomach growling because they'd skipped dinner, he was shocked to find that she'd disappeared. A little sad too. She'd been so sweet and cuddly afterwards... cuddling was obviously her thing. Turning on the light he saw a piece of hotel stationary resting on her pillow.

Ah, there we go. The normal "Call me! Here's my number."

But again she confounded him.

"Thanks for a wonderful evening, it was probably one of the best in my entire life.

Take care,

Angel"

No number. No indication that she wanted to hear from him again. Nothing. Maybe she was just doing it for bragging rights. That thought disturbed him, it wasn't how he had read her at all.

When a few weeks had passed and nothing showed up in the tabloids or the news, he found himself looking up her stories again and reading her blog. Even the blog she wrote about her interview didn't mention their night together, other than saying how friendly, sweet and fun he was to meet. It was almost as if he'd dreamed the entire thing. He might have thought that was true if it wasn't for the nail marks he'd had left in his shoulders for a couple days afterwards. Not that he'd minded those at all.

Maybe he could get her number from the Daily Show.

******

Afterward: Yes that's the end. No, I'm not writing a sequel. I prefer to let everyone imagine where it goes, whether they prefer to be a cynic or a romantic. I hope you enjoyed this foray into my fantasy!