I lean up a little and my nipples rub against his torso as I hold myself just above him. He brings a hand between us to rub a hardened peak, and a whimper slips from my lips. The sound sends a noticeable tremor through Simon’s body, and he reaches lower to pull at the fastenings of his pants. I sit back to help him, tugging at the strings and adjusting my stance to pull the fabric down his legs. He’s as bare as I am now, but I hardly get to take in the tantalizing sight before he draws me against him as I was before, settling me in his lap and pulling me down by the back of my neck to kiss me hard and wild.
Simon’s hands move to grip the fullness of my ass as he urges me forward and back, moving his hips against me. I can feel the wet warmth of cock sliding against my stomach, and I reach down to spread the moisture along his throbbing length. A moan rumbles out from his throat, and I pump my hand around him to coax even more sounds out of him.
Lifting myself up, I position him just outside my dripping entrance. One sway of my hips is all it would take. “Do you want me to stop?” I ask coyly.
He shakes his head and squeezes my ass harder. “No,” he answers. “I want to die like this.”
I can’t hold out anymore. I lower myself onto him, groaning loud when he’s in so deep that my muscles lock in a pleasure-filled spasm. I look down at Simon, his eyes closed and his jaw slack. He looks lost in an ocean of sensation. I could almost get off on the fact that I sent him there, but I need to make this last. I can’t ever let it stop.
I roll my hips with deliberate slowness, my hands bracing on his chest. I lift myself up to the point that he almost slips out before I drop down so he can fill me again. Over and over. Up and down. Sweat is beading down my chest, glistening in the firelight, when I feel my pussy starting to shiver. I’m getting close, but I strain against it, holding it at bay even though it hurts.
Simon must feel the precarious pleasure coursing through me because he suddenly sits up, keeping himself locked inside me as he slides in even farther. My head falls back in silent bliss.
I eventually look back down as he keeps rocking against me. His hands shift to my hips to lift and drop me onto his cock at an unrelenting pace. Heat is pounding through every inch of my body and I’m close to seeing stars.
He dips his head to suck my nipple into his mouth, and I grab onto his hair so tight that it has to hurt. He shifts to swipe his tongue over and around the other peak, doing it again and again until I let out a helpless cry at how unimaginably good it feels.
Simon sits back, still thrusting with and into me as he holds my barely focusing gaze. “Stop fighting,” he tells me, leaning in to kiss me with parted lips. “Let go for me, Lily.”
Something coils inside me at his command, and my folds squeeze down around him as I shudder and scream. I muffle the sound against his shoulder, but he yanks my head back and crashes his mouth to mine. I swallow his roar as I feel him explode inside me, and I want to stay in this lust-drunk moment until the world stops.
Time feels nonlinear as we pant together in the aftermath. Simon falls backward, keeping me tucked into his chest as we rest against each other. Eventually, I shift over so that he slips out of me, and I smile against the subtle soreness between my legs. We lie there for a while, trading gentle touches between us as we come back to reality.
“Tell me more about what you are like in the future,” Simon urges a minute later, his fingers running up and down my back. I settle more comfortably against him, oddly realizing that I now have to strain a bit to remember what I looked like before.
“I have red hair,” I say against his chest. “And freckles. I got seventeen stitches just under my chin when I was little, so I have a big scar. You can’t see it unless I lift my chin all the way up, but I think it gives me character.”
He runs his finger under the unmarred skin of Catherine’s chin, seeming like he’s looking for it. “And you are not married where you’re from?”
I smile at his question. “I’m definitely not married. I’m only twenty-four.”
“I’m twenty-four,” he says, “and my father says I am halfway through life.”
I lean up to look at him, bracing my weight on my elbows. “That’s not what it’s like in the future. In my time, people live well into their nineties if they’re healthy and lucky. And most people don’t get even get engaged to be married until they’re in their late twenties.”
“What activities fill your days?” he asks.
“I study and I work. I’m going for my PhD in psychology, which is the scientific study of how people think, feel, and act. I love my job so much.”
“What do you love about it?”
I fold my arms across his chest and lower my chin to rest on them. “I love developing meaningful relationships with people who don’t necessarily have the support or a support system in place that they can trust. I love giving my patients the tools they need to work through whatever it is that they’re struggling with. When I took an intro to psychology class in college my junior year, I knew it was all I wanted to do.”
Simon runs his fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ear on one side. “Was I the first person you met when you came here?”
His chest rises beneath me as he breathes, and I have the inexplicable need to get closer. I sneak one arm under him and pull with the other, rolling a bit to pull him on top of me. He’s theweighted blanket I never knew I needed. Simon smirks at our new position. “Yes, you were the very first person I met.”
“What did you think of me then?” he questions, pushing up on his arms but letting his bottom half rest against me.
“At first, I thought all of this was some kind of a show, and everyone was pretending. When I saw you, I thought you were handsome, and a good actor, and tall.”
“I am rather tall,” he agrees. My knees bend up at his waist of their own accord. The closer he is, the more comfortable I am. He slowly starts lowering himself down, sliding his hands under the pillow behind me and bringing us chest to chest. “And what do you think of me now?”
I look inward and ask the same question to myself, and I give him the unedited, honest answer that comes to mind. “I think that I’ve never felt this close to anyone before.”
“Not even in your time?”
I shake my head and wrap my arms around him. “No. Not even then.”
