Wordlessly, he spoons me, his face buried in my hair. He cradles me protectively, like he’ll always keep me safe from the world. His body heat seeps into me, and I sigh, slowly relaxing.
Since Grandpa’s death, I’ve felt like a balloon that’s been cut from its string, just floating away into the sky—up, up, up, until I’m so far from everyone and everything that I can never be okay again. But now, I’m feeling anchored. Safe.
And I realize this is where I’ve always wanted to be—within his arms.
I lay my hand over his and link our fingers. Then I notice something else… His erection pressing against my ass.
“Um…”
He groans. “Sorry—biology. I know you’ve had a tough time of it the past few days. But I’d have to be a zombie to not get interested when I’m holding the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
The “I love you” from earlier didn’t have the full impact—I was a tad too cynical. But right now, this declaration of love knocks on the door of my heart, and I feel the wounded little organ opening up a little, ready to give us another chance.
I shift and turn until I’m facing him. I can’t see much in the dark, but I can definitely feel how hot he is. How much he wants me, and how much he’s controlling himself because he doesn’t think I want it.
I cradle his face in my hands, and the heat sears my palms. I kiss him tenderly. He responds, using only his lips, as though silently asking,Are you okay? Are you sure?
I kiss him a bit more deeply.I’m okay with you. I’m sure with you.
His mouth fuses with mine, and his tongue glides in. I meet it, and realize how much I’ve missed the tenderness of his kiss.
His warm hands cup my face like I’m the most precious treasure in his life. Hot shivers run through me, pushing out the cold loneliness I’ve been feeling since Monday. When he’s holding me like this, kissing me like this, I feel like I’m never going to be alone.
I slide and roll up on top of him. He weaves his fingers into my hair, then glides one hand down, stroking my neck and back in a smooth, surprisingly soothing, movement. I wriggle against him until his cock’s pulsing against my lower belly.
He groans again, the sound muffled against my mouth. Sweet longing pierces me, and I deepen the kiss as heat rises between our eager bodies.
He slips his hand under the shirt I’m wearing. My nipples ache with anticipation. He cups my breast, and the calluses on his palm graze the tip. I moan deep in my chest, feeling the liquid heat gathering between my legs.
He touches me tenderly, taking his time, as though he’s relearning my body, its shape and weight and feel. He holds my nipple between his index and middle fingers, applying a subtle pressure. I rock against him, seeking the pleasure only he can give.
He pushes the shirt out of the way, and I pull it up and off and throw it somewhere, then tug at his. He uses his neck like a wrestler to lift us both off the mattress as he rips it over his head, then lifts his face, taking my breast into his mouth, sucking hard. My back arches at the shocking heat, and my toes curl against the sheet. His hands move over my body constantly, letting me know how much he adores me, how much he wants me.
I’m going out of my mind. The air in my lungs grows thicker, and my heart races with joyful bliss. Blood roars through my veins. My God. I feel so alive.
He makes me feel alive.
I cradle him between my legs and rock against him through the thin fabric of his shorts. His shaft is unbearably large, and it pulses with want.
I slide downward, tug his shorts off and dispose of them. I can only make out the faint outline of his cock in the darkness, but I can feel so much heat radiating from it. It smells like him and desire, and I take the tip into my mouth, wanting to taste him, feel his lust for me in my mouth.
There is a sharp intake of breath from above. I love what I’m doing to him, the rapid throbbing of his shaft. Slickness coats my tongue. He tastes of hot, salty, needy male.
I pull him deeper, stroking his thickly muscled thighs, then gently hold his balls in my hands. His belly jumps and his legs twitch as he fists the sheets. He braces his feet flat on the mattress and shallowly thrusts into my mouth. I use my lips and tongue, giving him the pressure he wants. Feeling his bare desire heats me up, and I’m soaked between my legs.
Suddenly, he grips my shoulders and pulls me up for a hot kiss. He plunders my mouth, like he can’t get enough—he’ll never get enough.
He lowers a hand, slipping a finger between my legs and finding me wet and slippery.
“Sucking your dick did that.” I feel wickedly confident. I know I can say anything honestly, and he’ll accept it.
He lets out a rough breath. “If you keep talking like that, I’m going to embarrass myself.”
“How?”
“I think I’m going to come before you do. And we can’t have that.” He reaches into the bottom drawer of his nightstand. I can hear things rattle, like he’s looking for something in a box. Finally, he pulls out a strip of something. “Condoms,” he explains, before ripping one open and sheathing himself.
I watch him, appreciating he’s thought of protecting us. Then I put a hand over his chest when he tries to roll us over. “Uh-uh.”
