“Oh my god,” I say, smiling when I catch my breath. “This is unreal.”
“Kiss me,” he whispers.
Yeah.Game over.
We’re making out like we’ll never come up for air.
But wedoneed air, so I kiss his jaw. His throat. His collarbone. I kiss anything I can reach before my brain can yell at me about being too much too fast. That thought goes away faster when he makes these sounds every time I grind on a spot he likes. I want to tattoo every sound into my soul.
“Nil,” I whisper. “I’m losing it.”
“Don’t stop,” he says. His voice shakes. His legs wrap around my waist, grip me hard enough to bruise. I want him to.
He keeps moving with me. We’re lined up just right, each grind sending more heat through my entire trembling body. My arms start to shake. I try to hold myself up. I fail a little.
He holds me steady. “I’m right here, Stan. I’ll catch you.”
“Don’t say things like that,” I mutter. “I’ll come in my pants.”
He laughs, breath shaking. He rocks up against me, and everything in me kicks into overdrive. The friction gets intense fast. Clothes or no clothes, it doesn’t matter. I can fuckingfeelevery damn inch of him. He’s longer, but I’m thicker. He’s leaking a lot. I wanna taste it real bad.
My stomach tightens, my body shakes, and I can’t come down. I’m only climbing higher and higher.
“Nil.” I gasp. “I can’t—”
“Keep going,” he whispers. “Stay with me, Stan.”
I stay. I keep going. I make a sound I’m going to pretend never happened. My forehead drops to his shoulder. My breath halts. The world goes blurry.
A heartbeat later, everything snaps, and I go over, shuddering hard, clinging to him while the heat crashes through me. I splatter all over myself, through my pants. Maybe it hits his too. I’m too spent to check.
I slump against him, breathing like I’ve run a marathon withemotional baggage strapped to my back and finally let it go right before sprinting through the finish line.
With a soft laugh, Nil rubs my shoulder. “Stan?”
“I’m alive,” I manage to form words. “Barely. Spirit in pieces.”
He laughs under me. He’s still tense, still worked up.
I push up on my elbows to look at him. His face is kinda pink, hair messy, mouth swollen.
He looks…incredible. I can’t believe this actually happened, and he’s still under me, staring at me like he wants more.
“Did I leave you hanging?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he says.
That’s definitely not fine in my books, but then I see this proud look in his eyes that hits me straight in the stomach. “Medically died there for a minute, I think,” I whisper.
“That’s what it looked like,” he says. “Thought I broke you.”
“You did,” I say. “But not in a bad way.”
His hand caresses my arm, all careful and warm. “Did I hurt you?” he asks.
“Not even close,” I say. “You were so good.”
“I’m glad. I want this to feel good for you.”
