“Which room, hon?” He breaks our kiss long enough for those baby blues to peer deep inside mine, piercing me straight through. All the words he’s not saying, all the emotions, there in that gaze.
“Last . . . Last door on the right,” I pant between labored breaths, clinging to his strong body.
His eyes peer into mine for a second longer. Time slows. The air heats. Our breaths shared as our hearts pound to the same silent song. He leans close, our foreheads touching, his arms wrapped tight around me.
His lips touch mine. Soft, deep, it’s filled with the passion of a thousand promises.
Then, he’s moving again. We spin through the threshold. Our embrace never breaks as he lowers me onto my bed. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth as he sinks his weight into me. In one fluid motion, he lines up and slides his length inside, filling me to the hilt.
We both moan, our bodies shaking as he slides almost completely out, then slams back in. His hands lock with mine, fingers entwined as he sets a steady, hard pace. With each thrust, he takes me higher, unlocks places I thought long destroyed. He rebuilds my shattered walls. No longer isolated in my solitary tower, he weaves himself in the fabric of my very core.
His hard pace continues, picking up speed until we are both grunting with every thrust. He tightens his grasp on my hands, kisses me softly. Still, I float higher. Tension coils deep inside, building stronger. With every stroke, it grows, consuming everything in its path.
I wrap my legs around him, anchoring myself as I meet him push for push. He slams into me even faster. My grunts morph into screams, his name a prayer on my lips as I struggle to hold on. The tension takes over, overflows into a river of bliss.
He thrusts once more, his muscles flexing as he comes undone with me. As aftershocks ripple through my body, he rolls over, laughing. “Fuck, Asra.” He peels off the condom, ties a knot in the top, and tosses it on the floor.
“Yeah,” I pant, our hands still connected, “Fuck.” It’s all I can say.Somehow, admitting that that was the best sex of my life, just doesn’t seem appropriate.
He squeezes my hand, then kisses my fingertips. Turning on my side, I take in his sculpted body and shake my head.
“What?”
I bite my bottom lip.
“Tell me, Prude,” he squeezes my hand again, “what’s with that look?”
“I,” I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut, “Viv did not prepare me at all for . . .” My words trail off as I peer down his body once more.
She did not prepare me at all. Not for his size, that’s he’s so sweet yet beyond intense. No mention of his generosity between the sheets. I mean, not that I expected details, but still, Vivian has never been one to kiss and not tell.
“Wait,” he turns to face me, shifting his weight to one arm, “who?”
“My friend, Vivian.” A pang of something shoots through me, lodging itself deep inside my ribcage. It’s not quite jealousy. I have no right to be resentful over something that happened before we, well, before. Still, I can’t help but wonder how many other women have seen his bedroom eyes or if they are just that.
His eyebrows scrunch together. “Why would she?”
“She said you . . .” I try to find the right words, but he only shakes his head.
“We never slept together.”
I search his face, trying to tell if he’s telling the truth. It shouldn’t matter. Yet somehow, it does. She said he wasfun. Really fun. Maybe she meant Breckin, I mean, she obviously didn’t tell me there were two of them.
“I don’t know what she told you,” he continues, “but we only talked and had a beer or two. Neither of us touched her. You, Asra,” he leans forward, cupping my cheek, “you are the only person I want. The only one I’m interested in.”
I try to breathe, but the air has turned to soup. His lips meet mine. I open immediately, deepening our connection. Sliding his hand in my hair, he tugs me closer.
When we break for air, he looks deep in my eyes, holding me flush against his body. “It was always just you.”
“I want you, too.” That little piece inside my chest grows. But it’s not jealousy. It’s him, Brendan. He’s fused himself inside my heart.
He kisses me, his rough lips melting with mine in a soft dance. His thick dick hardens, growing and digging into my thigh. I whimper. His hands tangle in my hair.
Soon, we’re moving. Our hips rock into each other. He slides his length up my slick folds. I moan, grabbing his toned ass and pulling him closer. He teases his cock through my parts again, leaving me frantic and shaking with need.
“Brendan . . . I . . .”
“You need this?” He rolls on top, easing his thick tip just past my entrance.