“I was fantasizing about you touching yourself while you were in my bed.Aboutcoming home and being able to smell your pussy all over my sheets.”Ireleased her hair and cupped her breast. “Thisisn’t over,Roar.Notby a long shot.”
And with that, her knees buckled as the tidal wave of pleasure pulled her out to sea once again.
20
AURORA
WELCOME TO THE GROUP CHAT
Oh myGod.Jackwas snuggly.
I needed to extricate myself from his grasp, but those stupid muscles were heavy.
And warm.
And . . . kind of nice.
I wasn’t snuggly.Iwas a “starfish in the middle of the bed” kind of woman.Ididn’t mind the occasional draped arm on a couch, but the bed was a sacred place for fucking and beauty sleep.Noneof this middle-ground nonsense.
Jack had trapped me against his chest.Twoarms wound around my waist, keeping me pinned securely against his body.Iwasn’t mad that we had fallen asleep together.Frankly, it was the best sleepIhad gotten in a long time—and not just becauseIwas exhausted after the generous half-dozen orgasms he doled out.
I shifted and felt that delicious ache radiate from between my legs.OhmyGod.
We had gone at each other like animals.Inthe shower.Onthe bed.Wetook a necessary break for snacks and hydration, then got back at it on the couch before heading to bed for the grand finale.
It was completely obnoxious and utterly amazing.Iwas sated.Iwas relaxed.Iwas rested.Ireallyhad to pee.
Jack let out a soft snore and curled in closer around my back.Ineeded to figure a way out soIcould get my head straight.
This was sex.
Just sex.
There was nuance.Wecould handle nuance.Wewere two completely unattached, consenting adults who just needed to blow off some steam and get laid.Itwasn’t anything more than that.
We both knew what the deal was.Jackhad agreed.Sure, there were some pesky, threadbare strings, but those would be snipped whenIpacked up and moved back across the country.
Just the thought of sorting through my things, packing my car, and tackling the nearly thirty-hour drive filled me with dread.
I’d miss waking up with the sun every day sinceIhadn’t bothered getting curtains.I’dmiss hiding on the widow’s watch; being a fly on the wall to someone’s best summer ever.
The beach held the magic of an eternal summer, even when the blazing heat was eventually replaced by bitter cold.Therewas no way the frigidAtlanticwinds could dull its magic.
I’d miss the way it felt like every sense and synapse was engaged the moment salt air filled my lungs.Itwasn’t just touch, taste, sight, smell, and sound.
It was nostalgia.Thecraving for simpler times when cares were few and far between.
It was wanderlust—the intrinsic ache for adventure.
It was pure euphoria.
It was catharsis: the release, letting go.
It was elysian.Idyllichappiness.
How wasIsupposed to leave the seven hundred senses of summer behind?I’dbe turning my back on vivid skies and walking into grayscale monotony.
But life was life.Ihad to finish the house.Ihad to find a job.Ihad to . . .Towhat?WhatdidIhave todo?
