as I rub against him. And then he puts his mouth to my other breast, still through the fabric of my nightshirt.
I long to be completely naked. To feel skin on skin, but we make do with this. The sensation below is dulled, but my frenzy makes me ride him harder. I can’t help but cry out. I haven’t had an orgasm in weeks, and yet I’ve spent most of my nights thinking of Ward and imagining such a moment as this. I’ve been a walking, throbbing mess for days.
His cock is upright, and I can’t position myself directly over the tip. I need more. As if he knows, he slides his fingers inside me, and I lose myself, thrashing against his hand as he sucks my breast even harder. I lift up, kneeling so that he can move his fingers more freely, and he does, setting up a rhythm with his fingers and thumb. I am light, and dizzy, and weightless in his arms. I’m on fire as I collapse in a heap in his arms.
He’s still hard. I slide my hand into his pants and taking a hold of him. For a shock filled second, my eyes widen at the size of him in my hands.
Sweet Jesus.
I pump him hard and fast, and relentlessly. He comes quickly, with a grunt, his face collapsing on my shoulder. We hold one another, my arms around him, his hands around my waist. He clings to me, as another crash of thunder bursts.
“I don’t have a good track record with women,” he murmurs, after a long time. We don’t pull apart, and he doesn’t look at me.
“I don’t have a good track record with men.”
And maybe we might just fit together because of that.
Chapter 26
WARD
I’m sticky, and sweaty, and I can feel her wet heat through her panties. I rub my thumb over her nipple, feel it rise beneath the fabric. Feel my own dick slowly rise again like a sleepy giant waking from its quick short nap.
Her soft body curls around my chest, her face buried in the crook of my neck and her arms over my shoulder. I don’t want to break the intimate spell which holds us together. I don’t want to be left with nothing but the cold, hard reality of my daily life. Mari has unknowingly added a tinge of intrigue and flirtation to my world which has been gray for so long. She has added color.
The thunder and lightning have stopped and the rain seems to have trickled to nothing.
She shifts on my lap and yawns against my shoulder before pulling back.
“See, it’s gone,” she says. “Nothing to be afraid of.” She peels her body away from me, even though we’re both still joined at the hip. I touch her hair, running my fingers through her silky locks, wishing I could do that whenever I wanted, instead of snatching a moment like this. “Thank you for changing my memories.” She smiles. I want her to stay here all night.
“I should go and shower,” she says, ungluing herself from me. We haven’t kissed, we haven’t seen one another naked, we haven’t made love, and yet we have shared a deeply intimate moment, one which sears deep into my soul, and which will haunt me in those fretful hours before sleep. I don’t want her to leave. I’m not done. We’re not done. I want more, and every part of her that I touch, tells me she wants more, too.
“Stay.” I grab her hand as she stands up.
“I can’t.”
“Says who?” I want to know.
“Says me.”
Our fingers slide out of one another’s hand as she turns to go, leaving me with a hard-on and a good look at her delectable legs.
Now that I’ve had a taste of her like this, I want the real thing. “Why are you doing this?”
She pulls up a strap that has fallen down and exposes a bare shoulder. “I don’t know how things will be if I stay here all night.”
I rush to reassure her. “We don’t have to do anything.” I would never expect anything from her. Just like now. It only happens if she wants it to. She cups the side of her neck, as if she’s thinking, as if her head’s telling her to leave and her heart—her heart or her pussy—is telling her to stay. This is pure lust, but women are more emotional. That’s why she’s leaving. She’s scared she’ll get hurt. That’s why I stay away from women,