Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

After what feels like an entire decade has passed, but in reality is likely only a handful of seconds, he dips down to brush his lips over mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, instead, he pulls back. “How do you feel?”

“Full of you.”

His brow furrows, and he starts to lift his hips. “Am I too much?”

“You’re exactly enough.” I clamp my knees against his sides and hook my feet behind his back. Then I decide I should probably stroke his ego. “Well, maybe you’re a little too much, but it’s a good too much.”

He chuckles and sinks back into me, rolling his hips. The movement is like a shower of sparks lighting me up from the inside.

“You tell me what feels good, okay?”

“This does, what you’re doing right now. I like that a lot.” I run my hands up his arms and over his shoulders.

“Let me know when you love it.”

He keeps grinding against me, and those sparks turn into flames that lick up my spine. It’s like I can feel him everywhere, and I want him deeper, closer, more. It takes me a good minute or two of adjusting to the newness of it all before it finally occurs to me that just because I’m under him doesn’t mean I don’t have any control.

I shift, changing the angle, and suddenly he’s hitting the spot. The one that makes magic happen. I’m pretty sure my eyes want to pop out of my skull. “Oh, God.”

Griffin’s lips curve into a satisfied smirk, and he starts moving faster, his strokes get longer, deeper, and every single damn thrust hits the freaking spot. I feel like I could reach out and touch heaven as I spiral up, up, up.

Tendrils of heat track their way over my body, my scalp tingles, along with every other part of me. My nails dig into Griffin’s shoulders, and no matter what, I can’t seem to make my body obey the command to loosen my grip. I call out his name, for what purpose I’m not entirely sure. I think I want to ask for something. An orgasm maybe? But I don’t know what I need to make that happen.

I’m teetering on the edge, closing in on bliss. “I’m almost there,” I moan.

“Come on, baby, chase it.” Griffin shifts, and his hot palm eases down my thigh, thumb hooking into the crook of my knee. He opens me wider and pushes my knee toward my chest. “That orgasm you’re fighting for belongs to me.”

And there it is. That statement, which is entirely too true, combined with his next hard thrust, makes white-hot lust explode between my thighs.

I groan an expletive, followed by a declaration that I’m coming—as if it wasn’t obvious. My body isn’t mine to command anymore. Griffin owns me so completely in this moment. I’m overwhelmed entirely, sensation blanketing out everything else. I’m floating and drowning, flying and falling.

It’s pure, undiluted euphoria. I come until the solar system magically appears behind my eyelids, complete with shooting stars. Griffin keeps pumping, moving faster even as his rhythm falters. I force my eyes open, and I’m very, very glad I do.

Because he’s astonishingly magnificent.

His entire body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, which would be unpleasant under other circumstances, but currently is really freaking hot. His eyes are heavy-lidded and trained on my face, his jaw locked, and his lip curled in what almost seems to be a silent snarl of satisfaction.

He pushes in one last time, and his body goes rigid and still, a low groan falling from his lips. It’s pretty damn glorious.

He drops down, still bearing most of his weight, but his lips find my throat, and he breathes hard against my skin for a few long seconds. I run my fingers through his hair, sated, but somehow still needy.

As I lie there, basking in the aftermath of a kick-ass orgasm and what I believe is probably epic loss-of-virginity sex, I can see how easy it would be to mistake this lust and connection for something more. I can also see how easy it would be to find myself falling for this man, and for the briefest moment, I regret this decision. Not because I believe I should have waited for love, but because there is no future to envision that extends beyond the next couple of months.

So as I breathe in Griffin’s salty skin and memorize everything about this moment, I also seal my heart away. I can’t risk falling for someone temporary. I can enjoy this time with him. He can be a fairy-tale chapter in my life.

He presses a kiss against the side of my neck and peppers gentle ones along the edge of my jaw until he reaches my mouth. I fully expect a peck on the lips and him to roll off me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses me, long and languorous, until I’m both languid and wanting it all over again.