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“So good.”
I clench my inner muscles to squeeze him even tighter. His eyes widen and he groans, the sound vibrating through both our bodies.
“Bloody hell,” he says. “I love being inside you so much. All right, let’s move away from the wall . . .”
Carefully he steps back a few paces, his body now taking my full weight.
“There we go! Freestanding. Not bad, eh?”
His ability to effortlessly carry me this way makes me feel secure and excited all at once.
“Lewis, I love you,” I say earnestly. “I really, really love you.”
It’s not the first time I’ve made this declaration in recent weeks. After fully forgiving Lewis and making peace with our past, the floodgates opened and love poured back into my life faster than I could ever have imagined.
“And I love you, Iona. You’re utterly perfect in every single way.”
Lewis lowers his head to capture my lips in a kiss. It’s both tender and passionate, filled with promises of forever.
“Are you ready for me to start moving?” he murmurs between kisses.
“More than ready.”
Lewis starts slowly, thrusting his hips with a gentle rhythm that quickly builds in intensity. I watch as his expression shifts—his eyes darkening, his jaw clenching. I know the look well. His passion is consuming him. This transformation from kind, loving man to primal lover is one that never fails to send shivers of excitement down my spine.
In this position—suspended congress—he rules our movements completely, which is just how he likes it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way either. His pace quickens, and he begins to move me on him, lifting me then pulling me back down in perfect sync with each of his upward thrusts. Our gasps and moans fill the room, a symphony of raw passion.
“Oh God, yes!” I exclaim. “Don’t stop! Just like that!”
The pressure builds inside me, spiralling higher and higher until I can’t hold back anymore. My orgasm crashes over me.
“Yes, that’s it! Come for me, Iona!” Lewis commands.
He lasts another few thrusts before emptying himself into me, the sensation triggering another ripple of pleasure that makes my toes curl and my breath hitch. Lewis takes a moment to catch his breath and then devours my moans with eager kisses.
Soon after, we lie beside one another on his bed, Lewis with his head resting on my breasts. He’s always liked relaxing like this afterwards, while I’ve always been fascinated by the contrast between his intensity when he’s in the throes of passion and his gentleness after he’s sated.
“Well? Your rating for the spreadsheet?” I prompt.
“Hmm . . . a ten.”
“Aw, c’mon, Lewis!” I tease, running my fingers through his hair. “You can’t give them all a ten. I need a bit more discernment from you. What’s the point of rating them if you give them all the same score?”
“I’ve come every time, haven’t I? Sex with you is always amazing. When I’m inside you, I’m happy—I don’t know what else to say. What would you rate that one?”
“Well . . . okay, I’m going to give that one a ten too because it was phenomenal. But unlike you, I have given a few of the things we’ve tried a lower rating.”
“But . . . never a score below nine, eh?”
“Well, no, but—ugh! You’re right. Everything always feels so good.”
These last few weeks haven’t just been about the sex, of course—although that has been great. Lewis and I have been continuing to catch up, and now that we’ve rekindled our truly special friendship, Bannock properly feels like home again. As time goes on, I wouldn’t be surprised if those six years when we barely talked to one another start to feel pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. For the first twenty-one years of our lives, we were best friends, and I’m confident that’s how we’ll be for the rest of them.
“You know,” I say, “I’d ideally like to tick something else off the spreadsheet tonight. Will you be good to go again soon?”
“Bloody hell!” He laughs. “I’m absolutely loving this, but these last few weeks . . . there’s been no recovery time. We’ve been at it like rabbits.”
“Is that a complaint?”
