him, feeling him everywhere. I squeeze my arms around his neck and moan when he slowly pulls out and pushes back in. It’s not rushed. It’s not hard. It’s soft, caring, like he wants it to last. He moves over my body and touches my skin and kisses my lips with the kind of need I want to absorb and feel and think about even when the moment is over.
And that’s what this is. A moment.
A moment of bliss as his bare cock buries itself inside of me over and over, and one where my hips meet his every thrust eagerly. We feed off each other, our tongues and limbs tangling and grasping and gasping and playing until the familiar flutter in the pit of my stomach returns.
My hands trail down his back, my nails digging in as he shifts his weight and enters me at a deeper angle. I grab his ass and meet his hips, egging him on to push into me harder, deeper, and feel him hit the perfect spot until my eyes roll and black dots fill my vision. He does it again and again, the movement never going as fast as I want but making my body burn all the same.
Sliding one of his arms under me, he lifts my body and thrusts into me while covering one of my nipples with his mouth and suckling it. My eyes stay closed as I take in the sensation of his cock twitching every time I clench around him and his breath blowing on the wet breast he plays with. He holds my hand with his free one, trying to keep me close, and breathes my name onto my lips when they meet mine for a scorching kiss like he’s feeding me oxygen.
And every time he hits that spot leaving me moaning, I think about all the other feelings that should squeeze my chest. I feel desire, the yearning of comfort, but there’s something lacking that I search for as his cock drives into me. So, I hold on tighter to his body and rock into him when his hips thrust forward. I listen to the sound our bodies make, and the way our breaths get louder. My pleas become desperate, my mind swarming with thoughts and wishes and hope.
Hope that this is enough.
Hope that this turns into what I want.
Not an escape. Love.
I search for that feeling as his thrusts becomes more demanding, knowing we’re both going to come when he slides a hand down my body and plays with my clit. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I grind into him and pant and beg until my body gets what it wants.
Not needs. Wants.
That feeling I search for in our intimacy is lost amidst the sweat and scent of good sex. I lose the way my mind tries latching onto to how he holds me, how he moves me into positions that gets me off too. He knows how to work me, how to hold me, and how to kiss me with reason.
But even after he pulls out and presses me against his side, peppering kisses against my temple and hair, I know the feeling isn’t there.
No matter how bad I want it to be.
I place a hand on his chest and caress the sweat dotting it, my eyes closing as I listen to his rapid heartbeat beginning to even. His lips stay pressed against the crown of my head, his warm breath soaking into my hair.
“You okay?” he asks.
I choke down my tears. “Yeah.”
An hour later after cleaning up in his bathroom, I make an excuse to go home to my best friend and Ainsley. I just pray my roommate isn’t there to see the tears that burn my eyes when I make it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I wake up the next morning with Jenna and Ainsley both still sleeping beside me in my bed. My face feels puffy from crying against Jenna’s shoulder, my chest heavy from things I don’t want to think about before eight in the morning.
A brown pair of eyes meets mine, a little hand reaching out and touching my cheek. I smile at her, already feeling better just knowing she’s here with me. I cover her hand with mine, sliding her palm to my mouth to press a kiss against it.
“I love you,” I whisper against her hand, smiling as her tired eyes brighten. “I’m feeling like waffles this morning, what do you say?”