Page 37 of The World Undone

Both of us clenched our thighs around each other as a bolt of need rolled through us.

Doesn’t do much for longevity, and I don’t know how many times I can come before passing out, but I am very willing to test those limits, she thought, before she ground herself against me, entangled and seeking more friction as another climax pulled from us both.

This one was different, even stronger than before, and it echoed between us, amplified by whatever final shields in the bond were temporarily abandoned.

My vision blurred, my lips finding hers as we rode the waves in whimpers and screams. And like a magnet, my palm pressed against her. I slid two fingers inside of her, stroking the spot I knew would make her melt—like her body was a map only I could read.

Because it made me melt too.

“Oh,” she said, both of us groaning as we slipped into another orgasm. Only this time, warm liquid rushed from us both as my vision blurred from the intensity of it.

Too much, it was almost too much. But fucking hell, I never wanted to stop this feeling.

Fuck.

Yes.

Fucking hell.

Oh my god.

Thoughts and sensations that couldn’t be made into words flooded my mind but I could no longer tell which belonged to whom.

My bones were jelly and we remained in a puddle of each other’s limbs until the intensity of the feeling faded into a soft echo—still not entirely gone, but quiet enough that I had control of my limbs and was able to form words again.

“That was—” I huffed, searching for some way to describe it other than the most mind-blowing sex—hell, experience—I’d ever had. Maybe I wasn’t actually able to form words yet.

“Yeah,” she exhaled, her lips tilted into an intoxicated grin. “That…was.”

I cuddled into her, mesmerized by the feel of her body against mine, the way that we seemed to fit together, effortlessly. My skin cooled from the liquid coating us—a mix of oil, sweat, and the product of our lust. It felt like a badge, a monument to all we’d just experienced.

“I’ve never done that before.”

I knew that she meant the squirting even though there was a lot about the last few minutes I’d never done before.

I grinned into her neck. “Same.”

My lips pressed into the spot where her neck met her shoulder and my tongue peeked out, already missing the taste of her.

“Mmm,” she hummed, leaning into the feel. “Next time you squirt, I want my head between your thighs.”

Fucking hell, just the visual of her beneath me, lapping me up, the simple promise of it, sent another pulse of need through me as I dug my fingers into her hips.

My mind was as jelly-like as my body, and I realized suddenly that she’d accomplished her goal. All I could focus on was this moment, on her, on the sensations flooding my system—every touch, every taste.

Hell, I was even greedily collecting every tiny whimper, moan, word, breath that she made like it was gospel.

And I was relaxed.

Happy.

Her own joy met mine in a crash and washed over us both.

She was right. Tomorrow. We’d deal with everything in the morning, but we needed moments like this, to feel connected—to remember what we were fighting for in the first place.

My thoughts started to feel more like mine again, and when I focused on the connection, I worked to close it—not completely shut it off, but shove a curtain over it. We couldn’t lay in a cycle of orgasms forever. No matter how pleasant that sounded.

A heavy knock sounded against the door and I stifled my groan of frustration. I wanted to sit in this bubble of bliss for as long as I possibly could.

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