The Heart of Us (Love in Isolation 4)

Soft moans escape, and I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm. My body begs for the release as I slowly slide one finger inside. It’s not enough, so I insert another, then press my free hand over my mouth as guttural groans ring out.

Heat rushes through me as I return to my hard bud. My breasts rise and fall as I teeter on the edge.

“Mm…Easton,” I whimper, wishing he could hear me moan his name. I imagine the way he’d fuck me raw and break me in all the right ways. I know he’d be an amazing lover just by how attentive he is with the most basic things.

As I imagine his tongue flicking against my clit, the orgasm rips through me. My muscles tighten, and as I spill over, my body convulses into rapid shakes. It takes every bit of strength I have not to scream out. When I finally come down from my high, I realize how sweaty and worked up I am. Easton’s gotten under my skin in the best way possible, and there’s nothing I can do about it. As scared as I am to admit it, I think I’ve slowly fallen in love with him.

Chapter Thirteen

EASTON

DAY 16

The sun beams through the windows, and I look at the clock on the bedside table and see it’s just after seven in the morning. Last night in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tatum and how she felt so right pressed against me. She leaned into me, twisted our tongues together, and for a moment, I thought she was going to give us what we both wanted. As soon as she said she should go to bed, I knew kissing was as much as she could handle right now.

The electricity I felt as our mouths connected is something I’ve never experienced before.

Knowing there’s no way I’m falling back to sleep, I climb out of bed and say good morning to George. He scurries around his cage, and I wiggle my finger between the bars before giving him a treat.

Afterward, I walk down the hall and see Tatum’s door is cracked. When I peek inside, she’s still asleep. Her golden-brown hair is splashed across the pillow, and if I weren’t so chickenshit or concerned how she’d react, I’d climb under the blankets and hold her to my chest. Then I’d tell her how goddamn beautiful she is. Instead, I go take a cold shower.

I stand under it. When I close my eyes, I replay last night in my head. Tatum kissing me and fisting my shirt in desperation. She wanted me, and fuck, I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t ready to carry her to my bed.

I roughly grab my erection and stroke it as fantasies play out in my mind. I imagine her perky nipples in my mouth, and licking down her stomach to her wet pussy. I grip harder, placing my other hand against the wall and steadying myself. My breathing grows more ragged until my balls tighten. It doesn’t take long before the orgasm rips through me, and I release a groan of pleasure.

A few seconds later, a knock taps on the door.

“Yeah?” I call out, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat.

“You alright?” Tatum asks from the other side.

“Fuck,” I whisper, not realizing how loud I was.

“I’m fine,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I thought I heard you yell something. You sure you’re fine?”

I can think of a million ways of how she could help me, and we could start with her perfectly plump lips around my cock. “I’m good, but thank you for checking on me.”

“No problem. I’m going downstairs.”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes,” I respond, grabbing the bar of soap and washing my body. After my dick has settled and I’ve rinsed off, I grab a towel and dry off. Once I’m good to go, I wrap it around my waist and head to my room.

“Shit,” I say, remembering my jeans are in the dryer. Since I only have a limited amount of clothes, I’ve been having to do laundry every couple of days. I go downstairs and as soon as my foot hits the hardwood, Tatum looks up at me from the table. She’s holding her cell phone out, so I assume she’s FaceTiming her sister.

“Yeah,” she says, and I can hear Oakley chatting about something.

Tatum’s gaze slides down my chest, stomach, and then she studies the imprint of my cock, before meeting my eyes again. I arch a brow and smirk, but keep my thoughts to myself. As I walk away, I can feel her eyes on me. I slip on some jeans and a T-shirt.

When I return, she ends the call and focuses on her iPad. I make an espresso and sit in front of her. She swallows hard as she watches me. There’s something behind her gaze—want and desire. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s two seconds away from devouring me whole.