He said her name. All but tore off those white panties with the little flowers all over them, toed off his mocs, stripped away his shirt, his jeans, his boxers.
Then he was on the bed with her in his arms.
He kissed her mouth. Her throat. Her breasts.
She moaned and shifted against him.
Her hands were on his face. In his hair. They spread over his shoulders, his chest, his back.
His heart was racing. His mind was blank. And then he remembered and he said “Wait,” and started to fumble for his jeans, but she said, “No, it’s all right. I’m on the pill,” and he almost wept with relief because the thought of having anything between her silken walls and his dick was more than he could take.
He kissed her belly.
Parted her thighs.
Knelt between them.
The world stood still.
“Bianca,” he said.
His voice was raw with command.
She looked up at him. His jaw was taut, his eyes almost black. She could feel the urgency in him, hot and sharp as electricity surging through a wire.
“Watch me,” he said. “I want to see you watch me.”
She raised her hips. Sig
hed his name, and he groaned and rocked into her.
Filled her.
She sobbed and arched towards him.
He rocked into her again. Deep. Fast. Taking for himself what he had to have. Giving to her what she needed.
Quickly, much too quickly, he felt it happening. The tightening in his groin. In his balls. The realization that he was coming apart even though it was too soon, too soon…
Her muscles contracted around him.
She cried out, and he put his hands under her ass, lifted her to him, felt her coming, heard her saying his name again and again and again.
He drove deep. One final time. She screamed, bit his shoulder.
And the whirlwind swept them away.
• • •
Time passed.
Seconds. Minutes. Hours.
An eternity.
Bianca didn’t know. Didn’t care. Nothing mattered but Chay.
He was on top of her, his face buried in her throat, his arms still around her. He was hard and hot and heavy; she could feel him pressing her into the mattress and that was fine.