His lips find mine again, and I can taste myself on his tongue. I swirl my tongue with his, running my hands over his naked back and shoulders. I push my hands into his hair, pressing my lips tighter against his until he pulls back. He looks down at me, and while maintaining eye contact, he reaches down and takes hold of my leg just above the knee. He lifts it until it is bent upwards, and then he hooks it over his shoulder. Before I have a chance to catch my breath fully, he is pushing inside me, his cock massive and hard and, oh, so good.
I feel my sex stretching to take him, and I moan as he slams into me. He holds my leg in place to keep me wide open for him,and runs his nails up and down the back of my leg as he thrusts. I move with him, ramming my hips in time with his. I find myself grabbing his ass, and pushing him in deeper with each thrust until his full length is buried deep inside my body.
Rhett angles his hips so that each thrust hits only one special spot. At first, I am not sure how I feel about the sensation. I feel like I am about to pee myself, but that feeling passes, and it feels … good. Damn good. I move with Rhett, but I let him take the lead, let him rock my world in a way I didn’t know it could be rocked.
A shiver goes through me as my sex clenches tightly around Rhett’s cock of its own accord, my back arches, and my eyes roll back. My body becomes rigid asanotherorgasm crashes over me. Never in my wildest dreams …
Oh God!
My fingernails dig viciously into Rhett’s shoulders as I cling for dear life. His thrusting reaches new heights as he moves harder and faster. Each thrust sends electric pulses through me, elongating my climax. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Just when I feel like I can’t handle anymore any longer, that I will burst open like a piñata doll, I feel the muscles in Rhett’s back tense and his face contorts in pleasure. He climaxes hard.
“Fuck, Pippa,” he growls, shuddering, his cock deep inside me.
He withdraws out of me and gently releases my leg before rolling off of me, ripping off the condom. We lay side by side for a moment, our fingers interlocked beside us.
My chest is heaving, and I am, and there is no other way to put this, in shock. I never thought it could be like this. All these years … The quiet of Rhett’s bedroom wraps around me like a cocoon. My skin is still tingling, every nerve ending alive, buzzing, and I feel an exhilaration I didn’t even know I wascapable of. I stare at the ceiling, trying to process the sheer intensity of what just happened.
For the first time, I actually understand. I understand why everyone makes such a fuss about sex. Why my friends talk about sex as though it’s some magical, transformative experience. I always thought it was, well, overrated to be perfectly honest. I mean, I did it with George, obviously not for me, but for him, for the sake of keeping him happy, keeping us together, but I never truly enjoyed it. It was a duty. Like how he took out the trash for us. A duty. To keep me happy.
How was I to know it could feel like … this?
And now I know. I know what I’ve been missing. I feel a strange combination of awe and heat pooling low in my stomach, a rush that’s almost addictive. My fingers trace over the back of Rhett’s hand absentmindedly. I can’t stop thinking about him, the way he looked at me, the way he held me, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered, the way he showed me just how good my body can feel in the right hands.
Suddenly, I feel a small pang of guilt, a fleeting thought of George sneaks into my mind. That familiar mix of obligation and residual affection I’ve carried for him. But I shake it off, telling myself that this … this isn’t about him. Not anymore. This is about me. About discovering what I want, what I like, what makes me feel alive. As Rhett so eloquently put it, George is busy getting laid, so I owe him no loyalty.
Rhett rolls to his side and faces me. He watches me with those infuriatingly knowing eyes of his. As if he can read my every thought, my every desire, my every hesitation. And I think, not for the first time tonight, how much I like being seen like that. Being understood, even if it is just for this night. But the way he’s looking at me, with that combination of possessiveness and hunger it’s almost predatorymakes my pulse skip.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he murmurs, leaning up onto one elbow, his head propped in his hand. His voice is low, teasing, and the way it pours over me makes me shiver.
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “I’m … I don’t know. Processing I guess,” I admit. “You … uh … I … well, I had no idea it could feel like … that.”
His eyes sparkle, his grin widens, and his face takes on a smug, cocky look that makes me want to shove him off the bed and then kiss him again immediately.
“Now, if you want to admit that the ‘just once’ stipulation isn’t going to fly, I’m more than happy to amend the rules.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from my chest. “Oh, really? You think I’m hooked after one time?”
He leans closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face, and I feel the warmth radiate through me all over again. “I don’t think so. I know.”
I roll my eyes, but the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile I can’t hide. “You smug bastard,” I mutter, but my voice has a soft, breathless edge to it.
“Oh how you like it,” he counters, his tone low, teasing, a hand tracing lazily along my arm.
“Maybe,” I concede.
The silence that follows is comfortable, intimate, charged. I’m still catching my breath, still feeling the aftershocks, and I can’t stop thinking about the novelty of it — the way it made me feel alive in a way I didn’t know that I could feel alive. I feel powerful, desirable, dangerous even, and I realize he’s right. I do want more. Not just more with him, but more for me. More experiences, more exploration, more of life outside the small, safe bubble I created around George and me.
I know this thing with Rhett will burn out. All passion fizzles out. It’s the nature of lust and desire. You want a thing so badly you think you’ll die if you don’t have it, then you get it, andit’s not so important anymore. Then you start to chase the next thing as if you’ll die if you don’t have that new thing. But George. He’s not an urge or an ache. He’s the real thing. He’s the warm fire you come back to when the temporary cravings are gone.
“You know,” I begin, hesitating slightly because it feels bold. “Maybe we should extend our arrangement a little. How about we end it when we leave New York?”
He arches an eyebrow, that grin that’s both infuriating and irresistible curling at his lips. “Is that your way of telling me you want to keep having more uncomplicated sex?”
I nod, trying to keep my tone casual, though my pulse is hammering. This is raw. This is thrilling. It’s not boring. Not dependable. And this is mine to explore, to savor, and to control.
“Exactly. No feelings, just fun. For both of us. We’ll go back to being friends when we return to London.”
He leans back slightly, his eyes glittering with amusement, and I see the way his jaw tightens just a fraction. There’s something in his expression, a mix of desire, calculation, and genuine delight, and it makes me shiver.
