Her heart swelled at his touch, at the gentleness of it, atthe fact that he hadn’t just spilled his sperm into her and been done. Then Derek’s body tightened, spasmed. “I’m coming, babe. God!” Hot liquid filled her mouth, his sharp taste flowing over her tongue and throat. She sucked every drop from him, then slowly slid her mouth off him, pausing for a last lick.
“Mmm, babe, thank you.” He tugged her hair so she lay down between the two men. Her mouth burned from being stretched so wide, so long, but it felt good. She closed her eyes, breathing fast, one hand on Derek’s chest, the other on Nate’s hard abdomen. Nate covered her hand with his.
Sleep wanted to take her away and she was slipping into it when she felt Nate move beside her to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed.
She opened her eyes and rolled toward him, put her hand on his back. “Where’re you going?”
He turned, gave her a crooked smile as he stood. “Back to my room.”
She shook her head. She stretched her hand toward him. “No. Stay.” Their eyes met. “Please.”
He hesitated, glanced at Derek behind her, then gave a short nod, took her hand and slid back into bed with them.
Nate awoke in bed with Krissa. He turned his head on the pillow to regard her sleeping form, mouth soft, lashes feathery on her cheeks. Derek was gone and Nate lifted his wrist to glance at the watch he still wore. Almost eight.
Derek always left early, and had made no exception today even though he was leaving his wife in bed with another man.
Nate rubbed his chest. A tangle of emotions writhed inside him like snakes in a pit, making his stomach jump. Images of last night played through his mind, Krissa’s kisses, her beautiful face as he made her come. He recalled the tight warm feel of her around him, how sublime and perfect it had been.
Something had torn loose inside him and was unraveling. It scared him.
Krissa’s eyes fluttered open and caught him staring at her.She blinked. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
They lay there, close enough to touch, except the duvet had wrapped itself around Nate and created a barrier between their naked bodies.
Krissa reached a hand out and covered his on his chest. “Thank you.”
His heart constricted. He wished he’d gotten up and scrammed out of her bedroom before she’d awoken. “No need.”
“Yes, there is.” Her fingers tightened on his. “Thank you for making that so good for me.”
Jesus. His eyes burned. And it wasn’t from bright light, because the room was almost dark, a faint pearly light making its way around the shades over the window.
“Yeah, that was pretty good,” he managed to say, then threw back the duvet and rolled out of bed. “Better go shower.”
He walked out without looking back at her, because he had a feeling if he did, he’d never leave that bed.
He lathered up in the shower, couldn’t resist dragging a sudsy hand over his cock. More action than he’d seen in quite some time, and yet he could go again. Thinking about Krissa’s sweet pussy made him hard again. He circled his fingers around his cock, slid them up, back down…then realized he couldn’t jerk off in the shower. He had to keep his sperm for Krissa, because they were going to be doing it again that night. It only took once, but she’d been adamant that two or three times during the period she was ovulating was better.
So he’d get some relief. He just had to wait. He put both hands against the shower wall and hung his head. Water poured down on him, ran off his head and shoulders in rivulets, into his face, stinging his eyes. He stayed like that for a long time, until he could force himself to turn off the water. He couldn’t hide in the shower all damn day.
As was becoming usual, he and Krissa ate breakfast together in the bright kitchen, sharing the paper. When she took it from him to read him the sports scores, he held on to it,not wanting to need her for anything, but she tugged and, unless he wanted the newspaper ripped in half, he had to let go.
She read him the scores, and he didn’t say thank you. Barely said two words. He felt her scowl at him. “Think I’ll go for a walk on the beach.” He stood and folded the paper. And like the jerk he was, he left his plate and mug on the table.
He strode out onto the deck. Fog. The damp air cooled his lungs as he inhaled deeply. The thick fog hid the ocean from view, but he could smell the salty, fishy tang, and he could hear the rhythmic whoosh of waves onto the shore.
He jogged down to the sand and then strolled along the beach, looking for his favorite rock to sit on, glad he’d worn jeans because of the chill in the air. The fog created a weird feeling, a feeling of being alone even though someone could be standing twenty feet away.
He sat down, drew his knees up and encircled them with his arms. The fog dampened sounds, the ocean only a hushed cadence. He couldn’t see the homes behind him, couldn’t see the ocean in front of him.
Hewasalone.
And hadn’t that pretty much been his goal for the last two years? Not to need anyone, not to get involved, because that just got messy and the feelings that simmered down deep inside him had to be kept there.
But today they were stirred up, roiling, threatening to boil over. Last night had pulled some sort of plug within him that he’d carefully kept closed up, releasing things he didn’t want loose.
