Right now, however, I need her to make the first move. And she does when her hand reaches out to trail down my torso, and brushes my dick, making it jump against her touch.
Leaning towards her, I wind my fingers into her hair and pull her in for a kiss. The fact that she comes willingly into my embrace is gratifying. It means I haven’t fucked up too badly, and she’s willing to move on to better things for tonight.
I slowly lower her down to the bed, and her legs lift to wrap around my waist, her heels digging into my ass and pulling my body close against hers. The heat between her legs brings my cock to full attention, and when she wriggles underneath me, I groan.
“You’d better let me get a condom on before you move like that, love.”
Savannah raises her eyebrows, smirks, and moves underneath me again. With a growl, I lift her hands over her head and pin them there with one of my own. My other hand comes down to her hips, holding her in place. I smack her lips with a kiss before reaching over to grab a condom from my bedside drawer.
“Naughty little tease,” I grumble.
I get covered up as quickly as possible, then it’s my turn to torment. Bending down, I take one of her nipples in my mouth, making her arch up with a gasp. As I suck and tease at her, I slide my fingers through her folds, making sure she’s wet and ready for me. Then without warning, I drive into her as she cries out my name.
I take her harder than I have before, letting my need to care for her consume me. She meets me, thrust for thrust, and we both lose ourselves to the escalating passion.
“Harder,” she demands. My hand lets go of hers, and she instantly wraps them around my torso, her nails digging into my back. I lift one of her legs up and over my shoulder so I can hit a different angle. With every slide of my hips, she cries out a keening sound of pleasure. She’s close, I can tell by the way she’s squeezing my dick. I speed up my thrusts, eager to come with her.
“Fucking hell,” I groan as I feel her convulse around me. My body responds, shattering into a million pieces with my own orgasm.
One final thrust and I’m drained, literally and figuratively. After kissing Savannah deeply while we’re still connected, I roll off and drag myself to the bathroom to deal with the condom. When I come back to the bed, Savannah’s curled onto her side, facing me. She still seems forlorn, and small somehow, as if she’s sunk in on herself. I climb into bed behind her and pull her back until my chest is curled around her front.
We fall asleep like that, without saying anything else to each other. Even though she’s in my arms, there’s a distance between us that I don’t like at all.
Even though Savannah’s acting quite normal the next morning, I can see the lines of tension around her eyes and I ache to smooth them away. We woke up tangled in each other’s arms, her legs draped over my body. I’ve never slept as soundly as I do with Savannah in my bed, whether from the mind-blowing sex every night or purely the comfort of having her nearby, I’m not sure. But today I don’t feel as rested as I normally do.
We dress for work together, but without our usual banter. It’s not lost on me that I’ve become accustomed to mornings with Savannah and the way we tease and touch each other. It says a lot about how hard I’ve fallen for her. I’m in a real relationship, with a woman I care for deeply, and I’m not running scared.
When I hand her a cup of coffee, she gives me a small smile of thanks. A light has dimmed within her, and I hate knowing that I can fix it, but I’m not able to. I don’t know what to do, whether I should listen to my instincts, which are telling me to fix the problem for her, or listen to her words and do nothing. There’s no right answer in my head; either choice would result in Savannah being disappointed. But I’m confident I can handle her disappointment in me. I don’t think I could handle her devastation if she loses Molly.
When it’s time to go, despite the underlying tension in the air, I find myself smiling at how domestic and right it all feels. She takes my hand as we walk to the office, enjoying the sunshine of a spring morning. I would have arranged for a car to drive us, but Savannah insisted she needed the fresh air.
“I’m not sure how you think this air is fresh,” I quip as taxis honk their horns around us, and the sounds of roadwork from one block over filter through to us. A desperate attempt on my part to bring some levity to the mood.
She shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ear. When a piece slips out, I reach up to take care of it, sliding the strands through my fingers and trailing them down her neck. She turns to me, and the flush of pink that I love to see is creeping up her chest. Without hesitation, I lean down and kiss her neck where the pink meets her normally creamy skin.
This time when she smiles, it’s a bit bigger, but it still doesn’t reach her eyes. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet between us, which gives me time to reach a decision. Later that day, behind the closed door of my office, I make a single phone call that I hope will fix everything.
“Suzette? My name is Alex Devlin. I’m interested in one of your greyhounds.”
