Maybe that’s why I feel safe enough to press my lips to his, tasting the salt of tears I didn’t know were streaking down my face. He matches my pace with soft nibbles, gentle flicks of his tongue, soft roaming hands.
Maybe that’s why I throw my leg around him and straddle his waist. My pulsing core settles over his cock, hardening by the second. I shift my hips, the move pulling a groan from him, and I do it again.
Maybe that’s why I feel totally at peace right now, ready for this next step. Because I know he’s not going to leave me. That we understand each other in a way no one else possibly could.
And because I love him.
The realization slams into me with a violent wave that causes me to shudder beneath his touch. His hands are on my hips while he continues to kiss me, unaware of the roaring in my head.
I love him.
Not in the way I did when I was younger, when I looked up to him. When he watched out for me, made sure I was fed, got to bed on time.
But in that deep, soul-consuming way I’ve only heard fleeting stories about. Where it feels like my heart is beating for him. Like he holds it in the palm of his rough, calloused hands.
I love him.
I chant the words in my head but refuse to say them with my mouth. Not yet. Not now.
I don’t want to think anymore.
I don’t want to talk anymore.
I just want to feel. Feel the love I have for him pour through my veins and move my hands down his chest. Feel his hard cock between my legs. Feel him without any material between us. Feel that final barrier that I created in my head shatter as he thrusts into me.
My movements become frenzied. I bury my hands in his hair, rotating my hips over him. His fingers dig into the fleshof my hips almost painfully. Is his heart racing as fast as mine is? Because right now, it feels like it could burst.
I nip at his tongue, capturing it between my teeth. His fingers flex in response. I release it and begin trailing kisses across his stubbled jaw, neck, to the crook of his ear.
Reid’s entire body is liquid but also hard as stone. Like he’s battling between giving into the desire coursing through him and trying to hold himself back.
I grind myself over him again. My clit aches with each movement, begging for attention.
“Pen,” he murmurs, “we should?—”
“No,” I pant against his mouth. “No stopping this time. I want all of you.”
His eyes dart back and forth. “Are you sure?”
I answer by grinding my hips again, feeling his cock strain underneath me.
He doesn’t ask me again. Instead he effortlessly lifts me off of him. I begin to protest, but he stays put on the bed, digging around in his pocket to grab his wallet. Popping it open, he retrieves a condom. I narrow my eyes at him. Immediately, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I only started carrying this around again once we started dating.”
“Carrying it aroundagain?”
He purses his lips. The fleeting look of panic on his face is too much and I burst out laughing. It’s fun making him squirm. I’m not unaware that I’m not the first girl that he’s been with, and I’d rather he have been safe in the past than not.
“I’m just busting your balls.” I grin.
He straddles me this time, the movement sending Macaroni running, and traps me beneath his body. “I’m hoping you’ll bust my balls.”
The teasing glint in his eyes disappears the moment hebrings my shirt over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, so I’m bared to his gaze.
I always thought that when this moment came, built up in my head over the years, that I’d feel shy. Vulnerable.
But I feel nothing but lust as Reid gently cups my breasts, like he’s done many times before. He’s always made me feel comfortable, desired, safe.
I bite back a moan.
