His soft, warm tongue flat against me.
Again and again.
Pushing me closer and closer.
I reach for him.
My fingers brush his suit jacket. His neck. The back of his head.
I tug at his short hair.
He scrapes his nails into my thighs as he winds me tighter and tighter.
Closer and closer—
There.
I groan his name as I come. The tension inside me winds to a fever pitch, then everything unravels. My world goes white. The winter light, the sheer curtains, the silk sheets.
The perfect soft light of bliss.
And the warm, steady pressure of his body.
The world a perfect, soft, warm place.
He presses his lips to my thighs. Then he pulls back. Undoes his tie. Rolls his sleeves to his elbows.
My toes curl into the sheets. I still want more. I always want more from him.
"Sit up," he says.
I do.
I expect him to ask for my arms, but he doesn't. He pulls the tie over my eyes. Cinches it behind my head.
An impromptu blindfold.
There's something exhilarating about it.
I want to see him. To see us.
But not knowing where he is or what he's doing—
Fuck.
He moves off the bed. Drops something on the desk. His watch maybe. And the shoes, I think.
The weight shifts on the bed.
He moves closer.
Then he presses his lips to the top of my foot. He kisses a line up my leg, over my thigh, up my stomach, all the way to my lips.
I kiss back as hard as I can. I need him. All of him I can get.
Adam wraps his fingers around my wrist. Takes my hand and brings it to his cock.
I press my palm against him. He's so warm and hard and I need that so badly. I pump him with a steady stroke. Then harder. Harder.
Until he groans against my mouth.
He rolls me onto my back. Then he brings his body on top of mine.
For a second, I soak in the feel of him. The weight of his body, the soft cotton of his shirt, the warmth of his bare skin.
His hands go to my hips. He holds me in place as he fills me.
No warm up. No tease. He drives hard and deep.
My head falls back.
My lips part with a groan.
I reach for something. Get his neck. The tops of his shoulders. The hint of his chest.
He slows as I press my palm against his chest.
We stay frozen there for a moment. I can't see him. I can't tell what he's thinking. I only know I want to touch him.
"Please." It falls off my lips. "Please, Adam."
He lets out a low groan and drives into me again.
Harder this time.
Deeper.
A growl falls from his lips. It's feral, like the animal part of him is taking over.
Terrifying.
Thrilling.
I press my palm flat against his chest. I don't want to push him, but fuck, I want to touch him.
Again, he slows, but only for a moment. Then he drives deep into me hard and fast.
I run my fingers over his skin, exploring him, trying to soak up every inch.
My fingers brush something hard. The raised line of a scar.
His hand finds my wrists immediately.
He pulls my hand over my head.
Then the other.
He presses his palm against my wrists, holding them there, making me powerless to do anything but take him.
And he drives into me so hard and deep it hurts.
But it hurts so fucking good.
My head falls to one side.
My fingers curl into my palms.
He winds me tighter with every thrust.
Pushing me closer and closer.
Until he's there, his cock pulsing inside me, groaning my name as he fills me. He works through his orgasm, then he pulls back, turns me onto my side, lies behind me.
He undoes the blindfold and slips his hand between my legs.
"Watch." His lips brush my ear.
He runs his teeth over my neck as he rubs me to orgasm.
I come fast. It's too much, seeing him work me, seeing our bodies aligned.
His name falls from my lips again.
Pleasure rocks through my body. Knocks me senseless. I melt into the bed, into his body, into this beautiful world where he gives himself to me.
This time, he stays in bed with me, holding my body against his, melting into me as much as I melt into him.
Adam runs a bath for me. He helps me soap, rinse, dry, dress.
At lunch—a perfect combination of lemon chicken soup and arugula Parmesan salad—Adam asks me to show him my favorite movies. We spend the afternoon in the home theater, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me, as I show him the favorites I think he'll like most.
We stay tangled together, in that state of easy intimacy through dinner, and dessert outside, in a blanket, under the stars.
I fall asleep in his arms.
Wake in his bed, rested and easy and warm.
Startled by voices downstairs.
Two I recognize.
Adam. Liam.
And a third voice asking, "What the fuck are you doing, Adam?"