He gave me more, faster, harder, oh yes, amazing.
Chace tore his mouth from mine, buried his face in my neck and I heard both of our heavy breaths as he groaned into my skin, “Jesus, f**k, so sleek, so tight, f**kin’, f**kin’ beautiful.”
“Honey,” I breathed, the word hitched in the middle because his thrusts had increased in power and were jolting my body. My hand not at his behind slid up his spine, into his hair and fisted in an effort to hold on.
I gave another hitched breath, this one for a different reason and I continued to receive Chace’s thrusts but his forearm went out of the bed so I also took his weight. His hand went to mine at his behind, his fingers curling around my wrist, he pulled it away, up, slid his hand into mine, laced our fingers then, still thrusting, he planted his forearm back into the bed but holding my hand.
Holding my hand.
Holding my hand.
Hard. Tight. Fingers laced.
Like he’d never let go.
Suddenly, like a shot, it hit me, my legs and arms tensed and I cried out as I came again. Not harder, not longer but for some reason way, way sweeter.
When I came down, his thumb was gone, his arm shoved under me, his hand curled around the back of my neck and his mouth came to mine as he kept thrusting, deeper, deeper, God, I loved having him inside me.
Then his h*ps bucked into mine, stayed planted, he groaned into my mouth and I loved that even more.
Nearly instantly, his lips left mine, slid across my cheek and I heard his labored breathing in my ear as I felt mine even out.
We were lying in the dark in the middle of night but everything about that moment I felt with a clarity I’d never had before.
Everything.
His weight on me, our bodies connected, his hand warm at my neck, fingers wrapped firm around the back, our fingers laced in the bed, his breath sounding in my ear, drifting across my skin, his weight on me, his thick, soft hair in my hand, my legs wrapped around him.
I hoped I never forgot that, any of it, not any of it, for the rest of my life.
I’d given Chace Keaton my virginity like I decided I wanted to do at the age of sixteen.
He took it and, before, gave me two orgasms and during, gave me another one.
And when I had mine and he had his, he held my hand.
Overwhelmed by all of it, the beauty of it, having what I’d dreamed of for years, having it be better than my dreams in a big way, the tears hit the backs of my eyes. I didn’t even try to stop my mouth when my head turned so I could find his ear.
“When I was sixteen, I saw you and when I did, I was young, romantic, and it might sound stupid but the minute I saw you, I knew I wanted to give that to you. I knew it was only you. I waited thirteen years, honey. It was worth the wait.”
His body stilled over mine and my heart clenched.
Oh frak, that was too much.
Oh frak! Maybe the first time couples did it, they didn’t share deep, romantic secrets.
Frak!
His hand slid from my neck as I tensed, uncertain what do, unable to escape him seeing as he was on me and in me. I had nowhere to go and no hope of getting there even if I had somewhere to go.
His body shifted slightly then the light came on.
I blinked at the sudden brightness.
Then I focused.
When I did, I stared.