“I missed you, would you believe it?” she says, kissing my cheek as I struggle to right us. “Are you okay?”
“Better than I’ve been in a month.”
I lift her and she winds her legs around me, refusing to get down as I pick my way along the path over to where her bag sits, leaning to grab the strap and hoist it. I carry Sage into the building’s foyer, ignoring the old woman who’s screeching at me in Spanish out a window, probably about destroying the flowers.
As I tramp up the steps to the flat, Sage is aggressively kissing my neck, and I have to concentrate on my footing to make sure I don’t kill us both.
“Hope you’re not tired,” she tells me as I shoulder us through the ajar door. “I haven’t gotten laid in a month and I’m dyyyyyyying.”
I shut the door with my foot and push Sage against theback of it, flinging the rucksack aside. Her hands dig into my hair, wrestling my face into position for her to assault with a deep kiss that leaves us both breathless. One of her hands dives between us to work at the button of my trousers, and between the two of us we get them pushed down so we’re separated only by a layer of cotton on me and the sheerest silk on her.
One of my arms supports her, the other is planted against the rough, artfully crazed paint of the door. Sage’s mouth is agile, hungry, striving against mine. She pauses and pulls back to meet my eyes, both of us gasping. Cocking her hips so she rubs against me, she lifts an eyebrow.
“What’s going on with the half-mast here?” she teases.
I give a mild, rueful laugh. “Would you believe I’m nervous?”
Her gaze is curiously tender, and she touches my face. “For real? That’s kind of adorable. You’re sure it’s not that you’ve used up all your energy fucking a parade of hot Spanish girls?” She wears her trademark smirk, but I spot the vulnerability hiding beneath it.
I step out of the tangle of my trousers and carry her to the bed, a low, pillow-littered futon behind a folding screen that’s collaged with antique book pages. Laying her down, I pull my shirt off and kneel by her feet, unlacing her boots and dropping them onto the hardwood floor.
“I’ve not been with anyone else.” Gliding my hands up her legs, I catch the edges of her knickers and pull them off. “And apparently you’ve not either? A month, you said?” I recline on my side next to her, caressing the thigh of one of her drawn-up legs, trying to appear casual.
“Yeah.” Her expression is shy, and she moves her focus topulling the zipper down on the front of her dress. “I think I might wanna go steady with you. Is that super lame? You said you’re not into sharing, so I figured you aren’t an open-relationship guy. But six weeks is too soon, right? Probably weird?” She opens the top of the dress and wriggles out of it, then disentangles the clip from her hair and tosses it.
“Fuck, Salvi…” I pull her on top of me as I roll onto my back. “Not too soon. Or maybe it is—I don’t know the rules to these things. But at any rate, I feel the same.”
“Wow, holy shit. Okay…” She takes a deep breath and exhales in a nervous titter. “Looks like we’re doing this.”
My hands slide up and down the firm, smooth length of her as far as I can reach, and I’m hopelessly ensnared in the electric copper of her eyes. I catch the back of her head and coax her to my mouth, brushing her lower lip with mine. “We are. But on one condition.” My free hand spreads at her lower back and gently presses her close against me. “I want the right to kiss you whilst we make love. Not just before or after.”
Her eyes go a bit wide. She drops her forehead against my shoulder. “Is that what we’re doing—making love?” she asks, muffled against my collarbone.
“I’vebeen. All along,” I tell her quietly. “Even the first night when you had me in those ridiculous pink plastic handcuffs and were essentially hate-fucking me.”
She wriggles up a few inches to whisper in my ear, “I had a total thing for you already.”
“Is that so?”
She pulls back, smiling as she paints one finger along my lower lip. “Yeah.”
After what looks like a thinking pause—a small wrinkle of something almost worried crossing her brow—she angles over my mouth, kissing me hard. The warm darts of her nipples are firm against my chest, her chiseled body is perfection beneath my eagerly roaming hands, and her hair falls down to enclose us in a seafoam-tinted curtain illuminated by the bedside lamp.
I’m drunk on her, lost in her scent, her touch, the warm taste of her mouth, the small groaning sighs and whimpers she emits as I stroke her back and cup her firm cheeks. My once-hesitant cock is like granite now, and Sage shifts to push my boxers down just enough to impale herself on me, still pressed close against my chest, our mouths locked in hot combat.
Her hips undulate, fucking me with enough slow subtlety to drive me mad when I want to pound into her hard. But God… Iloveher control over me in this moment, the way she chooses our pace. It reminds me of that racing quote that says one should drive “just fast enough to win.” Sage is going at it with a perfect balance of urgency and leisure, sinking again and again onto my cock merely by tilting her hips. I can feel how she’s rubbing her swollen clit against me, and see the results in the taut ecstasy on her face any time we pause in our fevered kisses.
With her knees on either side of my thighs, she speeds up, thrusting shamelessly against me, nails dug into my shoulders. Her upper body has enough clearance from my chest that she can rub her nipples on my skin as she nears her peak. Her eyes squeeze shut and her neck arches, and there it is, that telltale shocked hitch in her breathing before she comes with a scream, bearing down against me hard, crushing us together.
The feeling of her sweet arse tensing as she grinds rhythmically is possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever felt. I didn’t even know how close I was myself—I was so lost in watching her take her pleasure—but the sensation of her muscles clenching under my palms catapults me into a climax so devastating that it hits me like a plunge into water, both suffocating and exhilarating.
Her sweat-damp head droops down to rest on the crook of my shoulder. As we pant against each other, catching our breath, I move one leg and realize Sage has gushed all over me and we’re both soaked.
She hums a tired laugh. “Probably shoulda put down a towel.”
I give her a pat on the bum and turn my head to kiss her hair. “I’ll buy our host a new bed. Let’s go ahead and ruin this one.”
Sage nestles into me like I’m a soft pile of leaves in a small animal’s den. “I’ve never kissed someone while I was fucking them before,” she confesses in a sleepy voice. “It’s actually pretty rad.” As I’m trying to determine how to reply to this revelation—my heart swelling in a pleasantly painful way—she adds, “I don’t think I’d do it with anyone else though. It’s just a you thing, Sandy.”
