I nod and keep my eyes on him, and it feels like he's staring into my soul.
My thighs squeeze together and give out at the same time as I reach closer to my climax. I force myself to keep my eyes open. August's lips pressed into my neck, his breathing becomes ragged, and his groans are deep.
"Fuck. Fuck. I'm—" My mouth opens, and I let out a cry of pleasure as my orgasm ripples through my body. I try to catch my breath, but I can't. I feel the slickness of our sweat against each other.
"Shit, Riley." He pants, continuing to fuck me. "Do you want me to come inside you?"
My mind is hazy, I have absolutely no thoughts, and all I say is, "Yes."
His pumps become messy and rough while I still come on his cock. He doesn't stop rubbing my clit, the sensitivity stealing my breath away. He pinches it, and I yell out every curse word under the sun as I bury my face into my mattress. Harder and harder he jerks into me.
A second wave runs through my body, and my eyes start to water, almost crying from the pleasure that doesn’t leave me. No man has ever made me come twice, but no other man has ever made me grip the sheets off the bed either. The intensity ripples through me and all that stress I’ve carried on my shoulders for years melt away.
"Fuck," he cries out and lightly bites into my neck.
August’s warmth pours into me as he keeps coming undone. He continues to fuck me, rubbing my clit, like he can't get enough of this and doesn't want it to end.
My hips push onto him more; I don’t want to let him go. I want him inside me for as long as I can have him. I want to sleep with him inside and wake up to his hard cock and fuck him all over again. When we slow down, controlling our movements, all I hear is our breathing.
We both come down from our high, our energy drained, and our breathing sharp and quick. He slides his fingers away from my clit, making me jolt from the sensitivity. Both his hands wrap around my stomach, and I hold onto him still.
My hair sticks to my forehead. My knees start to give out. He kisses the top of my head, and then we both fall into bed, wrapped in each other's arms.
THIRTY-TWO
AUGUST
I wake up to the morning sun shining through the bedroom. My eyelids are heavy with exhaustion.
Incredible exhaustion.
Yesterday was an emotional rollercoaster for me; from getting a phone call from Ellie about Dad, to running to Riley's apartment—which I never thought I'd do—to her coming with me to talk to my parents.
But what I wasn't expecting was for me to go back to Riley's place, eat dinner, and end up fucking her. On her bed.
My calves feel sore, along with the muscles in my stomach. My eyes close for a second when I think about last night. We had sex four times throughout the night. Each time we finished, I’d go to the kitchen to grab water and snacks, and we'd lie in bed talking about life. And then we would end up on top of each other again.
At one point, I had her up against the wall. Something came over me as I was slamming into her so hard that I accidentally knocked down a frame that was hanging by us. I'm sure if I go to the bathroom and look at my back in themirror, there will be red marks going up and down from Riley's nails digging into me.
Never in a million years did I think this would happen.
I look at her, and she's facing away from me. Her bare back shows small freckles scattered across it. I want to trace each of them, turn them into beautiful constellations, and name each one.
Her shoulders rise and fall with each calm breath. It's hypnotic.
I rub my eyes, sitting up and taking in the blurry room. Our clothes are thrown across the bedroom floor. A glimpse of the arched full-length mirror sends images flashing in my mind: Riley's eyes rolling back just as she was about to climax.
If I keep thinking about this, I'm going to have another boner, and I'll have no choice but to wake her up. Instead, I choose to go downstairs to the coffee shop and grab us something.
After I finish putting my clothes back on, I grab my glasses from the coffee table. When I spot Riley's shirt on the floor, I smirk to myself.
Deciding to leave her note in case she wakes up before I’m back, I find a small journal on the TV stand, next to the record player. Curiosity takes over, but there’s no way I’m reading her personal and private thoughts. I flip to the back of the book and tear out an empty page.
Riley, I went downstairs to get coffee. Be back soon.
I place the note on the coffee table and quietly leave the apartment.
The coffee shop is filled with early-bird customers. Baked goods are already running low when I check out the glass display by the checkout counter. The white brickwalls, along with the black-and-white mosaic tiles, brighten the space. Sun pours in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
