I chuckle but then cut it short to kiss her again. Midway through the kiss, I use one of my hands to line myself up with her entrance. Alyssia breaks away from the kiss the moment I sink into her wetness.
Sliding inside of her is better than slipping inside of my one-seater on the track. It’s better than taking pole and standing at the top of the podium.
“So tight,” I groan in her ear, kissing every part of her neck that I can reach.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into her, but I brace my arms against the bed, not wanting to crush her with my weight.
“I need you,” she pants. “Please.”
Her begging undoes me, and I allow myself to let go. I rock into her pussy with abandon. Alyssia clings to me, her nails digging into the skin of my back. But there’s no pain, only bliss as our bodies burn hotter and hotter for one another.
In a matter of minutes, she’s coming again, calling my name.
I fight like hell not to come until she’s completed her orgasm. I want to watch every twitch, grimace, and twist her face makes as she takes her pleasure.
Once she comes down from her spiral, I allow myself to combust. I come with a wild abandon, emptying myself into her. This time it isn’t a mistake or the result of a broken condom.
It’s a declaration of what’s mine.
“Are you comfortable?”I ask Alyssia as we lay face to face in bed, our bodies sweaty but satiated.
Her smile is as bright as the moon that peeks through the blinds of the bedroom window. The pregnancy pillow that takes up almost a fourth of this bed, curves around her back, leaving only our intertwined hands resting between us.
“More than comfortable,” she says, her speech slightly slurred. “Kandace was right.”
“About what?”
“Giving you a chance.” Her husky laugh finds its way inside of every cell of my body, threatening to never let me go.
“She was right that night in Vegas, too, but it took for you getting stuck in an elevator to listen.”
Alyssia sucks her teeth. “You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”
“If I hadn’t, I never would have known your prejudices against good looking guys.”
She rolls her eyes. “My mind might have changed over the past few months.”
“Who was it?”
“You, of course.” She frowns when I shake my head.
“No, who was it that made you feel that way?”
I fight for patience as she takes her time answering.
“My ex,” she finally says. “We’d known each other since we were thirteen and started dating the summer before high school. Looking back now, I know it was youth and inexperience that had me thinking it was the relationship that would last forever.”
She sighs.
“I thought Grant and I would end up like my parents. They met in high school, dated for years, and got married after college.”
“What happened instead?” I ask.
“During our freshman year, the accident that killed my parents and injured me. He was there for me, in the best way a teenage boy can be, I suppose. He would sit with me on my grandmother’s porch or talk about something silly like our favorite show.”
Though I hate the little bastard already, a piece of me is glad to hear she wasn’t alone during that time.
“We continued dating through our junior year. But then my grandmother got sick and … I don’t know. I think it became too much to handle. He was the closest friend I had but I wasn’t his only friend.
