With teeth and tongue and lips he went to town on me, working me higher and higher. I had to admit, his delight in oral had long been a plus. He didn’t scrimp or get bored halfway through like some guys. Oh, no. Adam made a meal of me on his kitchen counter. My breath came in little pants, and my heart lodged high in my throat. Every inch of me awakened and came alive under his ministrations.
I sucked in a breath. “Fuck.”
He made a humming noise and homed in on my clit. We knew each other too damn well. Knew what drove each other crazy and what got us off. Some sucking and flicks of his tongue. A light bite. And I was done. With a loud groan, I came, body tensing, drawing up tight before releasing and rocketing for the stars. Without a doubt, he knew how to send me interstellar. Dammit.
I was still twitching when he picked me up and pushed me up against the nearest appliance.
“We’re fucking against the fridge?” I asked, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body.
“Yep.”
“Haven’t done that before.”
His smile was all teeth.
Then he was pushing into me, the hard length of his cock stretching and claiming me. It was both grueling and delightful for everyone involved. I knew I wasn’t the only one who moaned. Adam was nice-sized. A good, decent, not-to-be-ignored sort of size. And he knew what to do with it. Something he was apparently only too pleased to once again prove by drawing out slowly before slamming back in. All of those little muscles inside of me trembled and spasmed around him, welcoming him home.
No. This was just sex. Pure fucking. Nothing more.
Forehead resting against my shoulder, his chest worked furiously to take in air. “Jill. Jesus, baby.”
“It feels good,” I allowed, voice breathy.
“Yeah.” He laughed, looking up at me. In all honesty, he did smell damn good. The scent of fresh sweat on his skin got me high. All of the heat and hardness of him, centered in on me, was arousing as hell.
With no further words, gaze locked on mine, he proceeded to nail me to the fridge. His pupils were dilated, the expression on his face determined. Hips working hard, his dick embedding itself deep inside me with each and every thrust. I’d have bruises tomorrow from the hard grip of his hands. Just how I liked.
And while he might have been trying to prove something, his excitement and vigor was his undoing. With his pelvis working against me, his whole body taut, he growled and came. God, I loved that, feeling his cock jerk inside of me. The way his whole body responded when he came. Eyelids slammed shut, he ground himself against me, finishing with his face hidden in my neck, something he’d done since the first time we were together. Like it was too much, too revealing, too…everything.
“I’m sorry,” he eventually said when he’d gotten his breath back.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I wanted to make you come again. Instead I lost it like a goddamn kid.”
“You can make me come again later. I’m a giver like that.” I chuckled, threading my hands through his hair. Talk about proprietorial. Truth was, once I started touching him, it was damn hard to stop. I ran my fingers over his shoulders, down the length of his spine—or as far as I could reach. Did it need to be mentioned that there wasn’t an inch of him I didn’t want to touch? Not that it was a big deal or anything. So I might have been behaving in a slightly clingy fashion for a moment, it was just the old post-coital bliss haze. Memories making me maudlin and romantic or something. The allure of feeling close to someone. And I did feel close to him. Scarily so. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Right,” he said. As if I was made of spun glass, he set my feet gently on the floor. Next, he put himself away and pulled up his jeans. His mouth opened, but for the longest time, no words came out. “There’s some um better shampoo and stuff in the cabinet under the sink if you want to have a bath or a shower or…you know.”
“There is, huh?”
A nod.
With much awkwardness, we both stood there staring at each other. At the floor. At a wall. It was all greatly fascinating and not a form of avoidance at all. I crossed my hands over my breasts. So stupid given I remained buck-ass naked in my ex’s apartment after just having sex.
“Can I come?” he asked.
“You just did.”
“I meant can I accompany you to the bathroom or do you want some space?”
In days of yore, we had indeed showered together often after conjugal bliss. And despite it not necessarily feeling like a good idea, us spending more one-on-one time together without our clothes and all, I couldn’t actually think of the right way to say as much in the allotted time. “Sure. That’s fine. Whatever.”
He gave me a look most dubious. But when I about-faced and headed in the direction of the bathroom, he did indeed follow. I could totally feel his eyes on my ass, too. He followed me all the way to the door, where he abruptly halted. “I’ll give you your space. You need anything, I’ll just be out here.”
“Alright.”
“Use whatever you want. Make yourself at home.”