A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,87
the thickness of his cock between our bodies.
The way his body seeks me out. Asks for more.
And his hands too, gripping my ass as I rock into him, squeezing like he needs me deeper in him, so much deeper.
I rise a bit, sliding a hand between us to take his shaft in my palm. The second I touch him, he’s moaning and groaning, but shaking his head too. “You can’t do that yet. I’m going to come so fucking hard if you touch me. Want this to last, babe.” Fitz shoves my hand off him, then pushes up on his elbows, getting closer to me. “I need to kiss you. Kiss me while you fuck me.”
Wildfire spreads through me from the intensity of his words, his gaze. How can I resist him? I’ve never been able to. Even when I tried, I couldn’t. I can’t resist anything with him, with this man who strutted into my life and insisted on me. Who chased me, challenged me, found me.
And found my heart too.
As my hips swivel, my cock throbs inside him, aching for release, but I fight it off as he grabs my head and pulls me to him. He attacks my mouth ferociously, fucking me with his tongue as I fuck him with my cock.
His pulsing shaft is hot and hard, pre-come slicking between us. The feel of him like this, near the edge, sends bolts of lust down my spine.
Fitz slows the kissing for a second, murmuring against my lips, “I love kissing you so much. Gonna miss it so much, babe.”
“Me too,” I whisper, feeling too much, wanting too much.
I’m on the edge of the world right now. My body is nothing but pleasure, nothing but bliss.
My mind enters a wonderful, ecstatic haze as I move in him, rock my hips, stroke deeper.
“I love fucking you,” Fitz says with another hard kiss. “But I love this too. You fucking me. Want it again and again.” His hands grab me harder, while his legs grip me so damn tight. “Just love it all,” he whispers between bites and deep, hard kisses.
He’s not saying certain words exactly.
But it hardly matters. I feel them deep in my chest. And I know in my heart, I absolutely know what’s happening. I hate it, and I love it too. I love it so much.
This connection.
This incredible, intense intimacy that’s physical and so much more—more than two bodies smashing into each other. It skates far past chemistry and molecules and organs.
We are in this.
And I don’t know how we turn back.
His face shifts with pleasure, like he’s breaking.
“Babe,” he grunts. “I need to come.”
He drops his hand from my head, grabbing his cock. The moment shifts back to the physical plane as I swat his hand away.
“I’ll get you there,” I say, feeling possessive, needing to take him over the edge. Wanting to be the only one to ever do this to him, for him, with him.
And I do. I stroke him as agony twists his features—mine too, while I try to stave off my release. But it’s pointless because he’s growling and grunting, and his sounds unleash my own pleasure.
“Yes. Coming,” he says, and I watch as he explodes with desire, come spurting in jets over his stomach, up his chest. The sight of it pushes me over the edge. My own pleasure detonates, searing my blood, torching my veins, and taking over my whole being.
I groan, as my climax blinds me in an electric neon haze until both of us are gasping for air.
I sink onto him as he kisses me.
“I love kissing you,” he whispers again and again, like he can’t not say it, like he can’t stop doing it. “Love it so much.”
It’s all he’s saying, but I know what he’s not saying. I know what he’s feeling because I’m feeling it too.
“I love it so much too,” I tell him, and he loops his arms around my back.
And we know.
We both know what happened in such a short time in London after the night he walked into my bar.
Trouble is, I have no clue what happens tomorrow when he gets on that plane.
But I have to figure it out.
In the middle of the night, while Fitz is sound asleep and I’m unable even to nod off, I look up flights. I look up details. I run through scenarios.
I chase every possible permutation, and I make a list in my head of pros and cons.