His tongue traced down the center of my belly, dipped lower, traced the space where my thigh creased, then moving inward, sliding up my cleft. Pressing softly against my clit, his lips moved around it, sucking it in unhurried strobe like motions, making that pressure I'd already been feeling even stronger, even harder to tolerate.
"West." His name whimpered from between my lips, my hand pulling at his hair, my hips writhing up against him, begging for more, praying for it all.
But his lips moved away, sucking at the skin of my inner thigh, then moving back upward, over my breasts, my throat, my earlobe, then pressing to my lips once again as he balanced on one arm, the other searching for his wallet, seeking protection.
Finding it, he pushed back on his heels, reaching for my good hand, pressing it between my thighs as he ripped the wrapper, as he protected us.
He didn't immediately move over me, though.
His hand pressed on top of mine, and curled two fingers inside me as he pushed my palm against my clit, the pressure making a whimper burst from between my lips.
We stayed just like that.
My fingers on and in me.
His fingers encouraging, helping, showing me what I needed when I didn't even know what I needed myself.
He drove me up that way.
Slow.
Before his hand grabbed my wrist, lifting it up, raising my hand to his lips, slipping my fingers into his mouth, sucking them deep for a second, his tongue moving over them, then releasing me.
My hand fell down numbly at my side as he reached for my hips, pulling them up, settling them up on his thighs.
Easing my legs to the sides of his hips to anchor me, he reached downward again, pulling my upper body up, his cock pressing against me as I moved onto his lap, as my arms wrapped around his neck.
His hand moved between us, sliding his cock against me for a moment before pressing it against me.
Then pausing.
Waiting.
For me to take the lead.
I didn't really know slow and sweet.
I didn't let men be soft with me.
Maybe because I was worried about becoming soft myself.
But if there was a single man in this world that I could trust with my softness, it was West.
My hips pressed down, taking him deep in one long, slow stroke, letting out a sighing moan as he settled deep.
His arms moved around me, holding on, but not guiding me, forcing me to take the lead.
My hips rose, moving away, then pressing back down once again. All the way.
My eyes held his as I rode him. Slow. Sweet. Intense. Overwhelming.
The orgasm built more slowly than usual, but much more strongly, a vice grip on my insides, something that felt impossibly tight, too tight, like it might shatter.
Like I might shatter.
Beneath me, West's hips started to move in slow circles, getting me closer to the edge as my whimpers became nearly soundless gasps, my overwrought system unable to manage anything else.
Even as I got pushed to the edge.
Even as I teetered there for a few moments.
Even as I flew over, falling down, crashing under, unable to do anything but let them move through me, around me, overwhelming me entirely.
"Shh."
That was the first thing I heard when I finally managed to come back into my own body.
West's arms were holding me tightly enough that it ached.
"Shh, baby," he murmured into my hair, making me realize I was making strange gasping, crying sounds.
Focusing, I sucked in a deep, slow breath, holding it, then letting it out.
"Wow," I sighed into his neck, pressing a kiss there.
"You can say that," he agreed, easing me away, dealing with the condom, then moving back toward me, reaching for a blanket in the corner. Moving beside me, he flicked it over both our bodies, pulling me close to him, keeping an arm around me.
We both looked upward, seeing the stars glittering against the inky blackness.
"Think it's time?" he asked, fingers absentmindedly moving through my hair.
"For what?" I asked, feeling shivers move through me at his touch.
"The talk we've been avoiding."
"Oh, right. That. I guess we have put it off for long enough."
"What are your thoughts on it?"
"I think I'm not done here," I admitted. "A part of me is really struggling though."
"To leave your brother and friends."
"Yeah," I admitted, a small part of my heart breaking at the very idea of leaving them all behind.
"I can't ask you to leave them," he told me. "I won't," he added. "But I fucking want to," he concluded.
Those little breaks in my heart?
His words manage to glue them back together.
"I think I want to stay."
I knew it wouldn't be easy. I knew that there was going to be a lot of confusion and uncertainty and pain. To leave so much of myself behind.
"Yeah?"
"It's not the olden days," I added. "I can hop a plane at any time, and be there in a few hours if I miss them."