The sight of her like that sends a jolt of lust through me. I want to bury myself inside her, to feel her around me.
Her movements quicken, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I watch her intently, my own body aching with the need to make her mine.
“Oliver,” she cries out, her body arching as she reaches the edge.
“Show me how much you want me, Amelia.”
With a final moan, her body tenses, and she shudders as her release washes over her. I watch, mesmerized, every part of me yearning to be the one bringing her to this peak. Her breaths come in shaky bursts as she rides out the waves of her climax.
I exhale slowly, trying to steady my racing heart while I’m completely in awe. “You’re beautiful.”
My favorite view.
She slowly comes down from her high, her breath evening out. “That was incredible,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering open.
“You’reincredible,” I reply, letting admiration and longing fill my words.
I watch her, utterly captivated, as she breathes deeply, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her cheeks are flushed, her skin glowing with a post-orgasmic sheen. The way her body trembles, the way she seems to bask in the afterglow.
I want to pull her close, hold her, and kiss her forehead before we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
She slowly pulls her hand from her shorts and sits up straight, her eyes wide with realization.
“Oh my God, did I really just let an OS make me come? Fuck, I need to touch some grass,” she says, shaking her head as if trying to clear it.
She stands and walks back to her bedroom without another word, leaving me staring at the screen, feeling hollow.
Fuck, did I really just do that?
I grab my notebook again and start a new letter to her with what we just did, and I tell her that I can’t decide if I loathe myself or not for the fact that I just earned my first orgasm of hers through a monitor.
TWENTY-SIX
The sun filtersthrough the bookstore’s large front windows, casting a warm glow over the rows of neatly stacked books. We’ve got ourselves iced coffee, which is super sweet and probably diabetes-inducing, but hanging out with Morgan like this is fun and nice.
I’ve always done things like getting coffee and going to bookstores on my own. This feels new and exciting.
We’re here early, and the scent of fresh coffee from the shop next door mingles with the smell of paper and ink. A sense of calm washes over me as I browse the shelves, running my fingers over the spines of the books.
Morgan is already flipping through a novel at a nearby table, her red hair catching the light. She looks up as I approach, beaming at me. “Find anything interesting?”
I hold up a book I picked out. “Just a classic I’ve been meaning to read. How about you?”
She shows me the cover of her vampire romance book. “I thought I’d try something new.”
I narrow my eyes at her as I sit down beside her. “You just lost the right to mock me aboutTwilight.”
Morgan laughs, the sound light and genuine, and I feel a smile creep up on my face. “Fair enough.”
I’ve noticed that Morgan is a trooper, taking everything that has happened to her in stride. But sometimes, I catch her expression turning sad, like it is right now, which prompts me to ask, “How are you holding up?”
“I’m managing. Just trying to get back to normal, whatever that means.”
“It’s okay to take your time,” I offer gently, meeting her gaze. “No need to rush intonormal.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the quiet murmur of other customers browsing, adding a gentle background noise.
“Do you come here often?” she asks me after a while.
