The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Page 158


Which was exactly where and how I found myself in that moment.

I was awake, on my side with Aiden directly behind me, grinding his erection into my bottom as his hand snuck between my legs; those fingers were touching me low. Low. Right where my entire body centered. Right where I could tell how wet and anxious I was after so long.

How long has this been going on? I asked myself before I accepted that it didn’t matter.

I was squirming, moving my hips at the sensation behind me and in front of me. The long pipe under his clothes pressed hot against my butt; strong fingertips rubbed over the thin cotton of my panties and pajama pants. That big chest I admired on a daily basis was aligned with my back, molded to it.

He rolled his lower body and I rolled against him. The feel of him big and hard behind me was seriously the most amazing thing in the world. His mouth latched onto the nape of my neck, kissing, then biting where it met my shoulder. I panted. Aiden rubbed me lightly where I wanted him the most and I choked on the sensation, reaching behind me blindly to sneak my hand between our bodies. I cupped him, or as much of him as I could, and stroked up and down over that thick ridge that seemed to go on forever from the base.

“Aiden, please,” I whispered when his fingers circled over the too-damp material covering the seam between my thighs.

He answered by nipping my earlobe before sucking it between his lips.

“Aiden,” I repeated, gripping him hard in my hand before adjusting my position and slipping between the elastic of his boxer briefs and the hot skin of his lower abs. The short, bristly hairs at his root tickled my palm for a moment before I wrapped my palm and fingers around his base. My palm slid over from the tip of his erection all the way to the firm sack just below his base. I gave his balls a squeeze before doing the motion all over again. All that silky, hot skin brushing over my hand, his slick, damp tip painting a line over my fingers, palm, and inner wrist.

Without a warning, he yanked the hem of my pants down to my knees, and while I was still reacting to that, the fingers he’d been using to rub over my panties hooked onto one side of the scrap covering me, and he tugged the material over. “Yes?” he asked, brushing a big, blunt finger over my exposed sex.

“Yes.” What else was there to say? To beg for?

His hips withdrew from my backside before he returned, the mushroomed tip I’d been rubbing a second before prodded at me from behind.

Drawing my knees up to my chest as much as I could without doing anything to the pants knotting my legs together, I stayed on my side. He nudged his penis a little more at my opening, prodding with the not-so-small head below his waist before I opened my leg a little… and he surged. In. Inside of me. Hot, long, and so fucking hard I might have choked a little.

Slowly, he stroked his way inside, channeling his way into me.

Slowly, I pushed back and sucked in a breath when he bottomed out.

The swift intake of air Aiden took turned into a growl.

Each thrust gained momentum, all the way in, all the way out. Flesh parting around hard muscles, clinging and squeezing. His hand snuck up inside the front of my shirt, over my belly button, up and up until his fingertips pinched a nipple between them. His other hand made its way over my head to grab my hand, holding it in front of me against the bed.

He pumped and pumped his hips, the sound making a slapping noise against my bottom. He hit a spot inside me that was too much, making me squeeze my legs tighter together, only making it that much better.

I tipped my head back and his lips caught mine, kissing me. Ruthlessly, his tongue dove in against mine, consuming everything I had in me. Aiden rolled his hips and pounded. His kissing was relentless. His fingers going from one breast to another, rolling and pinching the small nubs that wanted him more and more every second.

“I want to come inside you,” he whispered into my ear.

That was all it took. I cried out. Coming. Coming.

Then Aiden groaned, low and sexy, he thrusts faster, more relentless and offbeat. His hips slapped mine, the noise wet and almost sloppy. With one more solid push, he thrust in completely and made this hoarse sound as he came, holding me to him so close and warm. The place where we met was wet as his erection twitched and pulsed inside of me.

I kissed him, swallowing his groans, enjoying the way he involuntarily moved inside of me. With a gasp, he pulled his mouth away, his hand letting go of mine to latch around my chest, pulling me into his frame, letting me love the feel of him warm and a little sweaty around me. He was panting. Hugging me. That big body wrapped around me, his penis only slightly softening.

I couldn’t find a single word to say that would be appropriate for what I was feeling right then, much less come up with a sentence that would do the moment justice. Settling my head under his chin, I let out a rattled exhale of exhaustion. Aiden’s hand cupped my breast, his mouth lingering at the space below my ear. I was boneless, painless, ecstatic, and relieved. When his palm squeezed my breast, I tipped my head back and searched for his mouth. Aiden, in that way of his that always knew everything, found my lips. His tongue met mine, tasting, exploring, savoring.

As the minutes dragged on, Aiden hardened. I felt that thick muscle inside of me lengthen, and continue getting longer, driving me instinctively back toward his hips, driving him deeper. Filling, so damn filling. But it was more than that elemental need for an orgasm that turned me on. It was Aiden’s body, his warmth, his mouth, the way every part of him was big and how perfectly in control of himself he was.

I loved Aiden. I more than loved him, and that made all the difference.

Tags: Mariana Zapata Romance
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