sink my hands into my hair, searching for control.
“That good, baby?”
My internal muscles begin to contract, my shakes rapidly taking over. My heart booms faster, my temperature swiftly rises. His tongue is magical. And when he slips two fingers inside me again, doubling the sensations and pleasure, it’s my undoing, my legs hardening as I come all over his face in sharp, rolling waves. I sink deeper into the bedsheets, electric shocks stabbing at the swollen cluster of nerves in my clit. My cheeks puff out, my body dazed from the fast onslaught of pleasure. I’m sated and hot as he kisses me gently, pulling his fingers free, trailing his mouth across my skin as he crawls back up my body. “Morning,” he whispers, shifting his hips and driving straight into me. His move has my fading orgasm rebuilding.
“Morning,” I sigh, hugging him, letting him take me to a place far better than this world. His drives are deep and exact, his grinds steady and firm. I’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms we’ve shared throughout the night, and more are on the way. He’s right. I won’t be able to walk properly, but it’s okay. Because Danny will carry me wherever I need to go. Which isn’t far from him. I smile to myself and stick my lips to his shoulder, stroking across his upper back as he sinks into me consistently and precisely, stripping back my breathing to shallow pants. He’s a surprisingly masterful lover. Gentle, selfless, and utterly consuming. I’m totally taken by him, everything about him. His ethics are questionable. He’s probably killed as many people as women he’s fucked. He’s cruel, callous, and he slapped me within an hour of meeting him. It’s backward for me to feel anything other than hatred for him. But I don’t hate him. I admire him—admire the state of mind he has me in. I admire him for being as fucked up as me. I couldn’t tell you if the ache in my heart is love. I couldn’t tell you whether the sting in my eyes when I think about his absence is love. I couldn’t tell you if the butterflies in my tummy each time I look at him is love.
But I fear it is. Because it’s the same ache I feel whenever I’m blessed with a picture of my son.
I close my eyes and breathe his sweaty skin into me, turning my face into his neck, squeezing him that little bit tighter. If I want to be his, then I am. But there’s so much he doesn’t know about me. “Danny,” I whisper, my voice broken by the overwhelming sensations invading every piece of me, of the feel of him moving inside me. Just tell him. Spit it out. The longer I stall, the worse it’ll become.
His head lifts so he can get me in his sights, and I fear for a moment that he’ll see all of my sins in my eyes. He continues to thrust gently and slowly. “What is it?” He dips and kisses me, holding his mouth on mine as he keeps up his dizzyingly expert pattern of drives and grinds.
I lose my nerve, fearful of the reprisals. I’m not scared that he might hurt me. Not physically, anyway. I’m scared he’ll turn his back on me, and this tranquility will be stolen from me. I swallow and shake my head, distracting him from pressing me by cupping the back of his head and plunging my tongue into his mouth, sweeping through hungrily. Sparks start to fly, my world starts to spin, and when Danny grunts under his breath, I naturally start to thrust up into his plunges. My fingers claw. He starts to shake. “Shit, Rose.” His hips jerk, and on a drawn-out mumble of nonsense, he sinks his face into my neck and bites down gently, pushing me higher and higher with each drive into me. Stars start to hamper my vision, my pulse in my ears distorting our moans of ecstasy. Our bodies become frenzied in the search for their releases, our voices louder.
My climax is there, right there, just waiting for me to seize it.
But it seizes me. It grabs me and tears me apart with the force, and I cry out into his shoulder, my body hijacked by stabs of merciless pleasure. I gasp, I choke, my eyes fly wide open as it savages me. “Oh my God,” I pant, blinking rapidly, my nerves sizzling. The pull