my climax subsides, he trails kisses up my body until his hard cock is positioned at my entrance. He knows I’m on the pill, we’ve talked about it before. But unlike all the other times when condoms sheathed him, he gives me one long look as if to ask if this is all right.
And I nod.
His movements are torturous as he enters me an inch at a time, pausing, pulling out, and moving in further—again and again until one of his hands finds mine and we interlock our fingers, thrusting in until he fills me completely. My fingers twitch around his as he holds my hand, drawing back and filling me again. It’s slow, too slow, and I use my free hand to cup his face and try kissing him harder, quicker, but he won’t have it.
Every time our hips meet, it’s with thought-out precision. He’s searching, searching, searching for something inside of me. His free hand cups my face like mine does his, and he deepens the kiss, tasting me and nipping my bottom lip as he continues his rhythmic movements.
The feelings building inside my chest warm my entire body as I realize how different this is from the other times. We’re always looking for ways to use sex as a means to an end. This isn’t like that.
And I want to know why.
What triggered you, Easton?
Whatever it is changed him. Instead of seeking a fuck buddy for a few hours, he sought after something entirely else. A person to cherish. To hold. To find shelter in. Me. He confided in me for that.
I find myself unlinking our hands and wrapping my arms around his neck as I draw my legs around his waist. I don’t rush the way he enters me or try changing the pace again. I settle for everything and anything he gives me and get lost in the foreign feeling as our heavy breaths mix.
What happened to you, Easton?
Thrust.
Talk to me, Easton.
Thrust.
I’m here for you, Easton.
My lips form an O as he thrusts one more time and hits me in the perfect spot until black spots dot my eyes and I silently orgasm with my body arching into his. I feel him empty himself inside of me and it’s the most erotic feeling I’ve ever felt before.
He doesn’t pull out right away. And before I know it … we’re doing it again. Only slower, drawing it out—prolonging the moment.
And I get lost all over again.
The gift card to Bellamy’s Bistro stares at me from the bottom of my purse. Nibbling my bottom lip as I sift through the contents to find the Chapstick I lost, I pull out the card and study it for a long moment with indecision. I haven’t even thought about using it until now—out of sight, out of mind.
But a part of me wants to use it soon to get out and enjoy myself. I doubt Ainsley would be interested in going since their kid’s menu is barely more than a few basic selections, and she was never one to like restaurants anyways. I blame Danny for that because he was the same way. He liked ordering delivery or cooking at home, even though I know Willow preferred dressing up and going out. She’d confided in me about it in hopes I could convince Danny to get someone to babysit while they had date nights. I talked to him and babysat Ainsley.
After the night I spent with Easton more than a week ago, I can’t help but wonder if he’d want to go with me. The Bistro supplied a card with more than enough for two people. I could ask Jenna, even be safer to, but it’s not her I want a night out with. And I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Pulling out my phone while waiting for Carter to show up at his office like we’d planned, I shoot East a text before I chicken out.
Me: Ever been to Bellamy’s?
Biting down on my thumbnail in wait of a reply, I turn my focus to the half-eaten granola bar in my other hand. Not hungry, I wrap the plastic wrapper around what’s left and stuff it in my purse. The gift card rests beside it, taunting me as my phone buzzes in my hand some minutes later.
East: Not usually my scene
What is his scene? After the night I’ve thought about way too much, I’ve wondered more about him. I want to ask him about his mom, what her name