Every thrust restores what was stolen from us. His constant gaze revives what we lost. There’s something in that look of his I’ll never find in another person. It’s the bridge between us, the bond that cements us together.
His lips touch mine, and his tongue carves out my mouth, his kisses long and penetrating.
I gasp, and he thrusts harder.
We moan together and move faster.
Arms and legs entwined.
Tongues rubbing and tangling.
Lost in the rhythmic throb of our beating hearts.
Then he slides out and shifts to my side.
From the nightstand, he grabs a remote and aims it at the stereo across the room. A second later, the intro to a familiar song hums through the speakers.
“Now we’re going to do this the reluctant way.” He flips me to my stomach. “Until you’re no longer reluctant. Focus on my voice.”
Before I can resist, he covers my back with his warm, heavy body and jumps in with the music, singing Meant to Be by Bebe Rexha and Florida Georgia Line.
The darkness tries to pull me under, seizing my chest and tensing my muscles. But I cling to the security of his heavy weight and the sultry twang in his voice as he sings.
I’m with Jake, and his presence is so potent it armors me in a sheath of warm protective skin and humming notes, promising I’ll never be alone again.
Not everything’s meant to be, but Jake and I are inevitable. We’re knotted together, and damn if he doesn’t know how to tie a knot that withstands the test of time.
He wraps tendrils of red hair around his fist and tilts my neck back, positioning my face in his line of sight. His knees push my legs apart, and his free hand notches his cock against my pussy.
My breaths careen into gasps, and his singing cuts off.
“I love you.” With his lips on mine, he sinks into my wet heat from behind.
The indomitable size of him stretches my inner walls, and I arch off the bed, moaning against his mouth.
“Goddamn, Conor.” He buries himself to the root, his body iron hard and shaking against me. “You’re so fucking tight. Do you feel that? You’re clamping down on me.”
“I feel everything.”
I don’t know if it’s the position or the fact that he’s riding me bareback, but my God, I feel his hardness, his heat, every ridge and twitching pulse of him.
Neither of us have ever had sex without a condom. Willing sex, that is. When we had a conversation about it last week, he learned that I’m still on the pill.
“Nothing between us.” He thrusts slowly, spiraling electric sparks through my body. “Never again. Fuck, you feel incredible.”
He pulls out and moves me onto my side, facing away from him. Then he kneels against the backs of my thighs and drives into me from behind.
“Ahhh.” His head falls back. “Feels so fucking good.” He surges into me, panting as he tweaks my nipple and plays with my clit. “God, you’re so wet and snug. Fucking perfect.”
The position gives him full access to my body, and his hands roam everywhere, rubbing and pinching my heated flesh. I rock against his thrusts and reach up to scrape my fingers along his sculpted torso, delighting in the flex of masculine strength as he bends over my hip and drives harder inside me.
Ravenous desire mounts between us. His pelvis collides with my backside, his cock stabbing in and out, demanding more, needing release. We’re famine and drought, starving and wanton, fucking like our lives depend on it.
“I need your mouth.” He rolls me to my back.
Crawling between my legs, he plants his lips over mine and grinds his way back inside me.
With a groan, he grips the back of my head and pulls me closer to his hungry mouth. His other arm hooks around my lower back, crushing our bodies together.
Then he fucks me into a languid rhythm, his hips rolling against mine with delicious friction. He holds me buoyant, drifting through a lofty, dreamlike state, with none of the frenzied desperation that reunited us. We’re just as impassioned, more so, but in a dazed, spellbound way that drugs the senses and intensifies the fever.
I’m lost in him, in the fusion of our heart beats, in the hooded sensuality of his eyes as he watches me.
He moves in and out of my body and kisses me achingly. Then he watches me again. Back and forth. Kissing, watching, both connections are possessive and inescapable as he digs his cock deeper inside me.
I slide my hands down his back and palm his ass, gripping the rigid muscle.
He’s a stallion between my legs, possessing me with his touch, all brawn and power and huffing breaths, a steady and bucking rush of animalistic hunger and watchful eyes.
It’s his unwavering eye contact that sends me over. I grind against him, moaning and gasping as every pleasure zone inside me bursts into full-body shock waves.