Until May (Until Her/Him)
“Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” His eyes open and the heated look in his gaze causes my pulse to quicken. I meet him halfway as his face lowers toward mine and kiss him as his heavy weight settles between my thighs. As his chest presses into mine, his hands reach back to grasp my ankles, and he pulls them up to wrap around his waist. “Hold me tight.” Feeling him so close to where I need him, I wiggle my hips, listening to him groan right before the head of his cock rubs up and down my slit and he starts to slowly slide inside me.
My lips part and my head digs back into the pillows behind me. Not only is he thick, but he’s long and hard, and with his heavy weight and mouth working down my neck to my breast, I know it won’t be long before I’m coming again.
When his lips wrap around my nipple and he’s fully seated inside me, I arch off the bed and dig my nails into his back. “Aiden.” I don’t even know what I want to say, but before I can think of something, anything, he pulls his hips back, only to slide forward again, and then he does it again. Each thrust of his hips sends me closer to the edge. “Harder,” I urge, not that he needs it. He’s frantic as he fucks me and I relish every single thrust.
“Give me your mouth,” he demands, and I right my neck, lifting up just enough to catch his mouth, and he thrusts his tongue between my lips. I drag my hands up his back and hold on as he takes me, then tear my mouth from his and bury my face against his chest as a tingle begins to travel across my scalp and down my spine. When darkness begins to drag me under, my head falls back, and I find his gaze, the look in his eyes so fricking beautiful that it hurts to see it directed at me.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” His thrusts speed up, and I hold on as tight as I can until the dam breaks.
As I come apart under him, I watch his neck arch and listen to his deep groan as he slows his thrusts, riding me through my orgasm before he comes deep inside me, planting himself there while dropping his mouth to my neck. Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I close my eyes, relishing in the aftershocks of my orgasm and the feel of his weight.
“Don’t move, please,” I whisper when I feel his muscles bunch like he’s about to roll us, and his body relaxes against mine while he kisses my bare shoulder.
“How’s your head?” he asks softly, and I search for the headache I felt earlier, but it’s gone.
“Fine. Who knew orgasms cured hangovers?” He leans back, and I slowly open my eyes, finding him smiling at me. Licking my lips, I try—really try—not to be dazzled by how handsome he is, but it’s difficult, now seeing the very pleased expression on his face and his hair in disarray from my fingers. Since the moment I saw his photo, I thought he was gorgeous, but like this, he looks like some kind of archangel sent from heaven to test the willpower of the women on earth.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I murmur, and his hand comes up so his finger can slide down between my brows.
“One day, you’ll tell me all your secrets.” He rolls to his back, taking me with him.
“Your ego is already big enough. You don’t need me to stroke it.” I kiss his chest that I’m sprawled across, then close my eyes and listen to the sound of his heart beating against my ear. My eyes get heavy, and just as I start to doze off, the doorbell rings, causing both dogs to bark once each.
“Expecting anyone?” he asks, sounding sleepy, and I sit up, looking at my bedroom door like I have the ability to see through it and the house and know who’s here.
“No,” I mumble as the bell rings again. “Coming!” I shout at the impatient person at my door when they begin to knock. Climbing off the bed, my nose scrunches at the feel of wetness still between my legs, so I run to the bathroom and clean up quickly before going into my closet to grab something to wear. When I step back into the bedroom, Aiden is dressed in a pair of sweats along with a long-sleeved thermal, waiting for me. We both leave the room at the same time and head down the hall, and as soon as I see the tall figure through the stained glass, standing on my front porch, my heart begins to race.
“Babe.” Aiden turns to look at me when I grab his wrist to stop him.
“It’s my dad,” I hiss.
“So let’s let him in.”
“May?” Dad shouts, sounding pissed. “I can see you. Open the door.”
“Shit.” I bite my lip and look up at Aiden. “My mom probably told him about everything that’s been going on.”
“May!” he yells again, and I curse before moving in front of Aiden and swinging the door open.
“Hey, Dad.” I smile at him, and he looks over my shoulder and narrows his eyes.
“I spoke with Herbert.” Oh no. “He told me about last night.”
“Umm,” I mumble, and he moves me out of the way so that he can step into the house heading toward Aiden. “Dad—”
“You, be quiet.” He points at me, then moves his finger to Aiden. “You wanna explain to me why you let your family disrespect my daughter?”
“Dad,” I start, but my mouth slams shut when he looks at me like he used to when I was a kid and I messed up.
“Don’t,” he growls, shoving his hand up, palm out toward me. Then the next thing I know, Aiden is standing between us, and his hand is behind his back, keeping me where I am.
“Since you’re May’s dad, I’m going to show some respect. But next time you put your hand in her face, we’re going to have a problem.”
“We’ve already got a problem,” Dad tells him, and I peek around Aiden’s side and watch my dad cross his arms over his chest. “I know who you are.”
“That’s doubtful,” Aiden mumbles.