Page 58 of Falling For My Ex's Older Brother

“Please,” she breathes, her hips bucking against me.

In one thrust, I bury myself inside her, groaning as her tightness envelopes me.

“Fuck,” I growl, gripping her hips as I pull back and slam into her again.

Her nails dig into my shoulders, and her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. I lose myself in the rhythm, the sound of our skin slapping together filling the room. Her moans grow louder with each thrust, and I can feel her getting wetter, her body clinging to me like she never wants to let go.

I lift her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around me as I stand. Her back presses against the wall, her legs around me as I shove my length into her again, and she yelps, throwing her arms around my neck. I thrust into her, harder and faster. She cries out, her head hitting the wall as I kiss her neck, her collarbone, biting and sucking, leaving marks she’ll see tomorrow.

Her walls flutter around me, and I know she’s close. I spin us around, and lay her back on the bed. I move her tothe edge, hooking her legs over my shoulders as I dive into her at a brutal pace. Her screams turn incoherent, her body writhing beneath me as her orgasm crashes over her.

Her release triggers mine, and I grunt as I unload heavy spurts of my seed into her pussy walls. The veins of my thick cock nearly burst as I pulsate inside of her, emptying my cum until there’s nothing left.

After some moments, I slowly pull out, our combined juices spilling onto the sheets. I collapse next to her, pulling her leg over mine as my hand lazily caresses her thigh and I press a kiss to her forehead.

The room is quiet except for the rhythmic sound of our breathing, still heavy from what we just shared. I’m on my back, one arm tucked behind my head the other draped across her bare back. She’s pressed against me, her cheek resting on my chest, and I can hear her drift off quickly into a deep sleep.

I can feel her warmth and it’s a feeling of calm I haven’t known in years. I close my eyes and drift off to a deep sleep.

***

She is still asleep when I wake. The room is gray with early light. She's beside me — her hair loose across the pillow, her breathing slow and even, one hand curled near her face. I lie still and I don't reach for my phone. I don't start building the day.

I just look at her.

After a while I get up quietly. I shower. I pullon lounge pants and leave my chest bare. When I come back out she's still asleep. Room service arrives while I'm reviewing nothing in particular — I'd ordered it before I showered, coffee and eggs, fruit and croissants, the kind of morning that doesn't require either of us to leave this room immediately.

I set the tray on the bed beside her. Pour two coffees.

She stirs. Her eyes open slowly and find mine and for a moment she just looks at me — unhurried, unguarded, the specific look of a person who woke up somewhere they feel safe.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi." I hand her the coffee. She sits up, pulls the sheet around her, wraps both hands around the mug.

I sit on the edge of the bed beside her. She looks at me over the rim of her coffee with the quiet attention she gives things she's deciding about.

"How'd you sleep?" I ask.

Something settles in her expression.

"Well," she says. "Really well."

"I'd like to think I had something to do with that."

She laughs — soft, genuine, a sound I've cataloged without meaning to over the past months that does something specific to my chest every time. She reaches for a croissant and tears a piece from it.

I watch her for a moment. The morning light is doing something to her hair. She's completely at ease in this room, in this bed, in this specific version of us that exists only in hotel rooms away from thefloor and the briefings and the professional architecture we maintain so carefully everywhere else.

I reach over. I smooth her hair back from her face — my hand moving slowly, my fingers combing through it once. She goes still. She looks at me. There is so much sitting in this room right now that neither of us has said. I can feel the weight of it — everything from last night, everything from the past months, everything I said in the corridor that I hadn't planned to say and meant completely.

"Thank you for staying," I say.

She holds my gaze for a long moment. Something moves through her eyes — deep, quiet, the kind of feeling that doesn't need to announce itself.

"Thank you for asking me," she says quietly.

I lean in. I kiss her — slow, unhurried, nothing urgent in it. When I pull back she's still looking at me. We sit with that for a moment. It's enough. It's more than I've given anyone in ten years.The thought arrives clearly and I hold it there and I don't push it away.