It's slow and lazy and deep, the taste of myself on her tongue sending a fresh shiver through me. The deeper the kiss, the more of myself I pour into it, into her. Gratitude and possession. Need. And she melts into me, hands in my hair, kissing me back as needful as me until it's too much.
The kiss breaks when I part us to pull her closer, hold her tight, maybe too tight. But she doesn't complain. Just sighs, content. I should be satisfied--I haven't come that hard in years. I should be sated.
But I'm not.
The ache is still there, deeper than before.
It's not enough. It'll never be enough.
More.Everything. Her.
This, again and again and again.
My cock twitches against her thigh, interested already, the bastard.
Impossible. I should be dead for hours.
But not when it comes to her.
I'm too high on her to know just how much I've already put on the line.
I won't figure it out until it's too late.
CHAPTER 34
BIG TIME
MOLLY
The sun has barely risen, but here I am in heaven, my second orgasm of the day tearing through me like wildfire.
I'm a writhing, gasping, clutching thing, my hands scrabbling in the sheets, and Grey draws my pleasure out, keeps it going with his wicked mouth latched to me and his hands clamped at the very tops of my thighs, holding me still. Or trying to, at least.
Only when I'm boneless and breathless does he finally let me go, kissing up my body with smirking lips, collapsing next to me. He pulls me into his arms, and then we're just a panting tangle of limbs, sleepy and sated. He woke me with roaming hands, and after my first orgasm, I tried my new trick again and went down on him. I found I very much enjoyed his dick in my face, I guess as much as he enjoyed my pussy in his, because as soon as he came, he dove in, tongue first.
"Morning," I say, half laughing.
He chuckles, kisses my temple. "Couldn't help myself."
"I'm not mad about it."
"Good, because I plan on waking you up like that every morning."
My heart flutters. Every morning. That means every night. I want that. I want itso bad.
I nestle into his chest. Sunlight is beginning to stream through the windows, birds singing outside, calm and serene, a hard contrast to the chaos of the storm last night.
It was intense. The storm, his confession, reconnecting. We fell together with a heavy sense of rightness, spending all night touching each other. But it was more than sex, deeper than that. Just…more. Everything was amplified.
After a week without him, I can barely believe I'm here in his bed, never mind feeling like I do now that the pretense of casual is gone. He feels it too, I hear it in every kiss, every touch.
He sighs heavily, whispers so soft I can barely hear him, lips in my hair, "God, I missed you."
A hot, happy tingle dances down my spine. "I missed you too."
"I'm not going through that again. We're not doing that again."
"Good."
