VERSUS (Second Chances 2)

The sight of those perfect tits in the black lace bra she’s wearing, and the matching panties almost sent me over the edge.

The last time I shot my load in my boxer briefs I was seventeen-years-old.

That was sixteen fucking years ago.

“Kiss me,” she murmurs.

I lower my mouth to hers, taking a second to run my tongue over the seam of her plump lips.

She moans into the kiss. It’s not coming from a place of need. I’ve heard enough of those sounds to recognize the difference between need and want.

This woman wants me just as much as I want her.

She doesn’t need me, so why in the hell do I feel like I need her?

The kiss breaks when her teeth clamp down on my lower lip.

I welcome the pain. I welcome anything she gifts me with.

“Take me to bed,” she demands in a whisper.

I pick her up. Her legs wrap around me. Her ankles cross at the base of my back.

I can feel the heat coming from her skin. I can sense how wet those lace panties are.

I turn us around but stop when her lips find mine again.

This time the kiss is intense and deep. Her tongue slides against mine, fighting for control.

I don’t give in. I take more, wrapping my hand around the back of her head, tugging her even closer.

She sucks in a deep breath when I pull back.

Her long eyelashes bat as a smile curves her mouth. “You can kiss.”

I stare into her beautiful eyes. “The bed.”

“Take me there.” Her lips trail a path over my jaw. “Now, Dylan.”

I steal one last kiss before I take a step forward.

I stop in place.

Where the fuck is my bedroom?

I chuckle when I realize that she’s kissed all sense out of me. I turn us around again.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, tapping my shoulder with her fingernail.

I want those nails digging into my skin when I’m inside of her. I want her to mark me. I want the pain to linger for days so I don’t forget her.

I shake the thought away with a heavy sigh.

I always forget them.

I can’t remember the name of the woman I fucked last week or the one I took to bed the week before that.

Maybe it’s best that I don’t know this woman’s name. I fear I’d never forget it and there’s only room in my memory for one name.