He was barreling toward the precipice at a hundred miles per hour when Marisol arched beneath him and her slick heat locked down around his cock, sending him over with a roar as he drove inside her one last time.
He threw back his head, gritted his teeth, dug his fingers into Marisol’s hips, and fought to hold on to consciousness as an orgasm unlike anything he’d ever experienced ripped through his body. It felt like his insides were being shredded and his nervous system about to overload.
For a moment he sincerely thought he might faint for the first time in his life, and felt a fleeting certainty that Marisol would think he was a tragic lightweight if he lost consciousness mid-orgasm. But finally, the black stars dancing at the edges of his vision began to fade, and the world stopped spinning.
“You okay?” he asked, catching his breath as he caressed the small of Marisol’s back, silently thanking God that he was lucky enough to get to view her from this angle. With her bottom in the air and his softening cock still buried inside her, she was heart-stopping, so gorgeous it was almost painful to look at her.
But then, he obviously liked a little pain with his pleasure…
“Are you all right?” he asked again, smoothing his palm gently over the curve of her ass.
“Words gone,” Marisol mumbled. “No words.”
He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the rock beneath them as he swept her hair to one side. “I hope that means I did okay.”
“Okay?” she said breathlessly. “That was so much better than okay.” She let out a ragged sigh. “I think I saw Jesus, or whichever god doesn’t mind showing his face when people are coming their brains out. I swear. There was Jesus, and now I have no brains.” She glanced over her shoulder, her brows drawn together. “Sorry, if that was offensive. I’ve lost control of my tongue.”
“I like it when you lose control of your tongue,” he said, leaning in to kiss her temple, where her pulse throbbed gently. “And I bet Jesus has a great sense of humor. They just left the funny stuff out of the Bible to save space.”
She smiled. “Thank you, but seriously…” She dropped her gaze to his lips before meeting his eyes with a look that made him want to start making love to her all over again. “That was…perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” he said, unable to resist the urge to give her another long, languid kiss. Her tongue danced lightly with his, and he miraculously felt his softening cock respond, but there were things that had to be taken care of before they could consider a second go around.
“Just a second.” He pulled away, gently withdrawing from inside of her. He tugged off the condom and reached for his tee shirt to clean up, feeling strangely shy as Marisol turned over to sit on her bottom with her legs drawn up to her chest, gazing up at him with a long, searching look.
“What?” he finally asked, tossing his tee shirt aside. “Do I have dirt on my face?”
She grinned. “You do, but that’s not what I was thinking about.”
“What were you thinking about?” he asked, reaching into the duffel bag for a washcloth to wrap the used condom in and pulling out the toiletry bag he’d grabbed from the house.
“Do you feel like you have to hide part of yourself?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she continued to study his face. “Or does that wild side of you only come out when you’re having sex?”
Bubba took a deep breath and seriously considered the question, too pleased to have Marisol asking him questions to let his discomfort get the better of him. “Well, I guess a little of both.” He sat back on his heels. “I mean, that side of me is always there, but it doesn’t come to the surface unless I’m with someone who I can tell is going to be okay with it. You know? I mean, you and me…” He shrugged. “I guess I just knew we would fit.”
“We do fit.” Her smile widened, becoming one of the brightest, most beautiful things he’d ever seen.
“What?” he asked again, grinning when she started to laugh. “Seriously, Marisol, if I were a less confident man, laughing at me this soon after sex would probably give me a complex. Maybe even erectile dysfunction.”
She huffed, but continued to laugh as she said, “Oh, please. You’re hard every other time I look at you. You will neverhave erectile dysfunction.”
Bubba chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. Her laughter was infectious, even if he was a little ashamed to have been caught with a hard on more than once or twice.
“And I’m not laughing at you,” she continued, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I was laughing at what I was thinking when we…” She wrinkled her nose and waved a hand through the air. “You know what, never mind. It’s not important.”
“No, tell me,” he said, standing and reaching a hand down to her.
She took his hand and stood, letting him lead her toward the shower. “Seriously, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about fairytales.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, mock glaring at her over his shoulder. “Or I’m not going to wash your hair. And I was planning to work in a neck massage after the rinse, so you want me to wash your hair, woman. I can promise you that much.”
Her smile softened and a new light came into her eyes, one so sweet he forgot he’d been reaching for the shower valve and stopped to stare. It felt like his heart was going to break if he looked at that light long enough. Or maybe his heart was going to break if he didn’t get to keep looking at it for the rest of his life.
“Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.
“For what?”
“For being the same.” She brought her hand to rest on his forearm, letting her fingers play through the hair there in an unguarded way that made him happier than he’d thought such a simple touch could. “I was afraid things would be different between us, and I… I didn’t want to lose my friend.”