I turn her so we’re sitting up, facing each other.
Our gazes collide as she sinks down. She watches me, eyes intent, with desperate hunger on her face.
I gasp at the feeling of being completely surrounded by her, at us becoming one.
I in control before, but now she takes the lead. She moves up and down in slow, sensual rhythm, in an erotic dance.
Sweat beads on my brow. All the while we never break eye contact.
“Fuck, baby. You’re killing me,” I say on a ragged breath.
She continues her slow strokes, connecting impossibly deep and then rising back up, torturing us both.
When I can’t take any more, I slip a hand between us. She gasps and her rhythm stutters, goes erratic.
We’re both so damn close. I lay her down to the bed, leaning over her. “It’s always been you.” The words drag out of me, sounding like the vow they are.
Her eyes go soft. “I dreamed of you,” she whispers back.
And then I’m no longer in control. But neither is she. We’re both lost to this insatiable hunger. This madness.
She falls first, over the cliff. Then it’s my turn.
Overtaken by the most intense orgasm I’ve ever felt, I close my eyes.
Home. I’m finally home.
“Damn, we’re good,”I mutter much, much later.
Emma’s hair is drying around her in soft waves from our shower, where we took washing each other clean to a whole new level. A sweet smile plays on her face. She appears lit from within, and all I want is to see her like this forever.
“It wasn’t bad. Though we may need to try it a few more times before I can say for sure.”
“Happy to be of service,” I say roughly, thinking,I’d like a lifetime.
She’s quiet for long minutes, playing a hand back and forth over my chest absently.
“When do you fly to London to start your movie?” she asks hesitantly.
“Sunday night,” I admit. I don’t want this weekend to end. This trip has felt like a dream. And I don’t want to wake up.
I know Emma cares about me. But she’s spent the last few weeks insisting that she needs space and independence. She said from the beginning of the trip that this would be a brief interlude. That after, she’d go her way and I’d go mine.
Except, I don’t want space. And I don’t want slow.
I’ve always gone after what I want, full tilt. I don’t second-guess. I crash through every barrier until I achieve my desire, to hell with who or what gets in my way.
But Emma isn’t a movie role. Or drugs. Or the latest daredevil experience.
And for once, what I want isn’t what’s important.
It’s what Emma needs that matters most.
She’s infinitely precious and infinitely cautious. And unlike any other time before, I’m terrified of fucking something up. She’s already shown that she can cut me out of her life if I fail to listen and respect her boundaries.
So, as much as I want to rush this, I have to follow her cues on how I proceed. Even if it means I have to let my cautious girl catch up.
And what if she decides I’m not what she wants?I don’t have the best track record of people close to me staying in my life. I close my eyes at the thought.
