Page 115 of Casanova LLC

I clenched my inner muscles and felt him surge inside me in answer. So I rolled my hips forward. He swallowed against my neck. I pushed back against the hand at my head and he let me pull away. I found his lips and kissed them, as I slowly started to slide along him.

Still on his knees, he pitched me back, suspending me in a forty-five-degree angle, his hands cradling my back. So I leaned away, and let him have me.

He fucked me. That’s the only word I had for it. I’d never had reason to think it, let alone say it, but I was sure this was why the word had been invented. “Fuck me.” I kept saying it, as if I had always said it. “Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me.” My voice changed with each repetition. And he obliged.

“More,” he commanded.

I eagerly gave it to him. “Don’t stop. I swear, I could come again.”

“And you will. Together. We’ll do it together.”

“Is that what you want? You want to fuck me until I come? You want to come together?”

Was this just dirty talk?

Or was this just who we were, being who we were, together?

Or was this just him at his performing best?

Why was I thinking? Stop it!

His ever-increasing thrusts brought me present. I gave myself fully over, arched my back as he released me from his hold; my shoulders hit the bed. My arms flung out like wings. Giving him full access. I wanted every drop of him. I repeated, with a voice that I didn’t recognize. “Is this what you want?!”

His voice was a graveled road. “Yes.” His eyes shot up from where they’d been focused—at the place of our joining. He looked wild, unbridled, uncontrolled.

“You want this?” I taunted, as I bore down on his thrusts.

“You. I want you. Claire. For five. Fucking. Years.” I was done for. “From the moment I saw you. And I’ll never stop. Wanting you.” The last two words were said as if he were damning himself, a mixture of ecstasy and anguish.

But it was honest. The most honest he’d been with his feelings. For me.

We had come to a turning point. We had touched something else. Something deeper.

We were at a place where our moves had become interchangeable. I no longer knew who was doing who. Then, without a word said between us, we simultaneously stopped. Locked in the depths of each other and eye to eye, we…stayed. Hovered. Over some kind of abyss.

Our breaths worked as billows…until we ignited.

He trembled and I blazed. Both our hands reached for the others’; entwined; clenched; braced, like the arch of a cathedral. We held on for dear life. Together.

My insides became hot with him. And I devoured it.

He collapsed onto me, and I grunted at the unexpected weight, but it felt so good, so right. I felt so…joyous. I was buoyant, even with his leaded weight atop me. I was raw, unfiltered, like honeycomb.

“I want more.” And then I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Obviously not right now.” The laugh brought unexpected tears with it. “I just don’t want us to be over.”

He’d made me understand what I’d been built for. Not only had he unlocked me and handed over the key, but he’d shown me a whole new room.

His hands were in my hair, his nose in my neck. He just stayed there for another handful of seconds. He drew a long breath, inhaling me. Then he sighed, in a way that bordered on regretful.

He braced himself on his elbows over me, so as not to crush me. He kissed the side of my neck, gave me one last, long stroke, and pulled out. He stood and walked, like David come to life, into the bathroom. Shut the door.

I floated for a few minutes, waiting for him to come back. When he did, when I heard the bathroom door open, I expected him to crawl back into bed with me.

He didn’t.

His footsteps stopped and I opened my eyes.

He was fully dressed.

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