A brief, sharp flash of pain crossed her features, her brow furrowing, her lips parting in a silent gasp. I held myselfperfectly, painfully still, my hands gripping her hips not to guide her, but to anchor myself, to keep from surging up into her and coming right then and there.
“Just breathe, sweetheart,” I whispered, my voice strained, my own body a tightly coiled spring, screaming for release. “Breathe through it.”
Danika nodded, a tiny, jerky motion, and pushed past the initial discomfort. And then, as if struck by an idea, her own hand moved between our joined bodies. She was trying to find that feeling again—that warm, tingly sensation that could overcome the pain.
I watched, mesmerized, as her fingers found the sensitive nub above where we were joined. Her expression shifted from one of concentration to one of pleasure. Gradually, the tension in her face melted away, replaced by a building heat that mirrored my own, her breath catching in a different way now.
Slowly, she began to move. It started as a rock of her hips, a gentle testing of the rhythm. I met her movement for movement, a shallow, careful thrust that made her gasp.
“Deeper,” she pleaded, her voice a broken whisper.
I gave in, my hands sliding from her hips to grab her ass, guiding her down as I drove up to meet her, burying myself deep. We both groaned—one sound, one need.
Seeing her like that—head back, back arched, hand moving in that perfect rhythm while she rode me—nearly wrecked me. I bit down hard, trying to hang on, every muscle tight with the effort. All I could focus on was her—her breathing stuttering, the way she clenched around me, the soft, broken sounds spilling from her lips with every grind of her hips.
“Look at me,” I commanded softly, needing to see her face when she came.
Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, found mine. The connection was electric—more intimate than the joining of ourbodies. I could see the pleasure mounting, a storm gathering in her gaze.
“I’m… I’m close,” she panted, her movements becoming less controlled, more frantic.
“Let go,” I urged, my voice raw with my own need. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”
It was all the permission she needed. Her climax broke over her with a sharp, gasping cry that she muffled against my shoulder, her body seizing around me. I felt her inner muscles clench and release in a series of devastating, rhythmic pulses, a milking sensation that shattered the last of my restraint.
With a guttural groan torn from the depths of my soul, I let go, my own release crashing over me. I held her tightly against me, my hips pumping as I emptied myself inside her, wave after wave of blinding pleasure leaving me boneless and spent.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing mingling. I brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead, my body humming with a profound, bone-deep satisfaction I’d never known was possible.
Then a sound sliced through the quiet, sharp and intrusive as a shard of glass—the distinct jangle of keys, followed by a burst of laughter just outside the apartment door.
Time seemed to stop as the reality hit me. Her roommates were home.
The intimate, hazy bubble shattered into a thousand pieces. Danika’s eyes, which had been heavy-lidded, flew open, wide with pure panic. We were about to be busted, tangled together, naked and glistening on the living room sofa.
6
DANIKA
The door swung open before we even had a second to gather our clothes.
“Oh my god.” Sutton’s voice rang out, followed by a burst of laughter from Gabriella, somewhere behind her. “Sorry. Sorry. We’re leaving.”
The door slammed shut again, but the damage was done. Nicholas and I sprang apart like teenagers caught by our parents. I grabbed my T-shirt from the floor, yanking it over my head while he fumbled with his jeans. My sweatpants had somehow ended up halfway across the room, and I hopped on one foot trying to get into them while Nicholas buttoned his shirt with shaking hands.
“This is fine,” he muttered. “Totally normal. Very casual.”
“We had sex on the couch,” I whispered. “In the living room. Where anyone could walk in.”
“You said they’d be gone for a while.”
“I was wrong.”
We’d just managed to achieve some semblance of decency when the door opened again—slowly this time, cautiously.
Sutton poked her head in first, her red hair catching the light. “Are you decent?”
“Define decent,” I said weakly.
