Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,70
want connection.
I kiss the back of his neck as I fuck him, I murmur yeses as I stroke him.
And soon, we are reduced to the simplest state.
To pants. To grunts. To one or two words.
So good.
Yes.
Fucking yes.
Amazing.
Oh, God.
That’s all we are as our bodies rediscover each other. He shifts his neck so he’s looking at me, and he doesn’t have to say a word for me to know what he wants.
We make out like crazy. Kissing wildly in the kind of soul-searing kiss that you don’t ever think can truly happen to you.
Until it does.
And then . . . you know. That “seeing stars” isn’t just a saying. That it’s the truth. When you come together as one with your guy. When you reconnect with the man you’ve spent the last five years longing for.
Maybe you didn’t feel that longing every day or every night. Maybe you learned to live with it. Maybe some of the time, maybe even most of the time, it was dormant, but still you hoped that you’d find your way back to each other.
Now, here we are, wrapped up together. I move in him, rocking my hips, indulging in slow, euphoric strokes that make my groin simmer and my dick show off how hard it can get.
Pleasure blazes over my skin as we kiss. But soon our lips slide apart as I hit that pace. The pace that says we’re not far off. Lust spins in my veins, coiling tight and hot in my blood.
I wrap my hand tighter around his dick.
And it’s like Declan loses his mind to bliss. He’s groaning, incoherent words of carnal bliss falling from his lips, till he gasps, “Yes, like that, do that.”
Pride surges in me, knowing how close he is, how much he wants to get off. How I can give him incomparable ecstasy, like he gives to me.
As my fist shuttles up and down his hot length, pleasure blasts through my body. It’s like a nuclear reactor inside me. I’m radioactive with desire, and I’m about to overheat. Declan unleashes the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard in my life, shooting all over my hand, hot jets of come landing on the sheets, on my palm, everywhere, as he gasps and pants.
My brain goes haywire, my own climax torpedoing through me, as my cock jerks hard inside his body and I fill him with my come.
I can’t even catch my breath, and I’m not sure I want to. I just want to bask in this ecstasy, in the aftershocks of our intimacy. I’m buzzing from the high, and I don’t want to leave my favorite place—Declan Steele.
But I ease out, wrap my arms around him, and I kiss him as I laugh softly.
I can’t help it. I’m just happy.
He laughs too. A blissful, post-sex high. The kind I’ve only ever wanted to enjoy with him. And enjoy we do, arms snaking around each other, lips sealing this second chance.
This is what it feels like to come back together.
It’s like being home.
“I’m so happy,” I whisper.
He reaches his arm back, clasping my head. “Me too.”
But there’s that matter of how messy barebacking can be. I drag my hand to the top of his ass, then along his crack, down his thighs. Dragging it through the mess I made of him.
I smirk, feeling kind of proud. “Shower with me?”
“I bet it’s the first of countless post-sex showers.”
He slides out of bed, and I smack his ass. “You can count on that.”
30
Declan
Here in the light, I have a great view of the canvas of my favorite work of art.
The pad of my thumb roams over the black ink on his hip, tracing the fine lines of the sun, then the moon. “Finally. I get to see this ink you promised to show me,” I say, as I explore his new tattoos with my fingers.
“You were a little distracted before. I get it,” he says as hot water beats down on us in Grant’s Shower Palace.
His title for it, and does it ever deserve the name. It’s a shower fit for a king, with a gleaming, black-tiled floor and walls, and fifty or so showerheads, it seems. Hot water is spraying me from every direction, and I love it.
I especially love the beads of water sliding down my man’s body. Like right there, over his hip. Home to his new ink. “Tell me about these,” I say.
“Well, one’s the sun. It brings light. The other’s the moon. It causes tides.”