Page 79 of Sighs By the Sea

Her sultry smirk is my undoing, and I crash my mouth against hers. Relief floods through me as our tongues dance together. At first, it’s a feverish kiss—one of longing that says everything my mouth was afraid to. Each night on the phone, it got harder and harder to resist. Languid strokes of our tongues turn intense, her passion matching mine.

I back her to the bed, and she sits, our mouths still connected. When she lays back, I climb over her. "Maggie…" I say again, my voice filled with emotion. It’s all I can manage. I want to weep with how good it feels to touch her again.

My fingers tremble as I run my hands up and down her body. I don’t want to devour her; I want to cherish her, to honor every inch of her skin. I strip off my clothes, and like the good girl she is, she waits, her thighs rubbing together in impatience. Once I’m naked, I cover her body with mine, relishing every inch of contact. Her warmth is so soothing, so right.

Pushing her bikini aside, I quickly test her slit with a finger. She’s soaked and ready. My hard cock pulses with need as I line it up with her entrance. Instead of thrusting into her like I want to, I meet her eyes. "Watch, Maggie, watch me enter you." I tilt my head down too and inch my way inside her.

As my cock disappears into her warmth, I groan with restraint. So slow. Agonizingly slow. Her body quivers around me, adjusting to my size as I bottom out. "Feel me, Maggie," I demand, and her eyes roll back with pleasure. I gently tilt her gaze back down. "Watch, Maggie."

She obeys, and I swivel my hips without haste. The friction is perfect, her pussy squeezing me as I rock back and forth. I won’t let myself speed up, no matter how much I want to. Her hands clutch onto my bicep, her nails digging into my skin. Her whimpers turn to moans, then gasps. She’s close, but still, I keep my pace steady.

Sweat beads on my forehead, my entire body shaking as I resist the urge to pound into her. Her hands smooth down my back until she grips on, her fingers bruising my skin.

I growl, hoping I can keep this up. She deserves the world, and this is all I have to give her. I want her to feel our connection as deeply as I do. Panting, she clenches around my cock, squeezing me in the most delicious way. I thrust through it, my long shaft rubbing against her clit.

"Graaaayyy," she warns.

"I know, baby, let it go," I belt out. Her arms wrap around me in a bear hug, but I keep my slow, controlled pace. My strokes grow jerky, my body tight. Her gasps turn into words, but they’re incoherent. I catch snippets like ‘more’ and ‘yes’ between what I think are mumbled curses.

Pleasure shoots down my spine, curling my toes until it pools in my aching balls. Then, it explodes up my shaft until I burst inside her, hot jets of cum filling her as she screams out in ecstasy. I pump through it, murmuring her name, softly kissing her lips, her cheeks, her forehead—anything my lips can reach.

"Maggie," I say on my final thrust, then still, buried deep inside her. Her pussy squeezes around me in a steady rhythm, the time between pulses growing longer and longer until finally, her body completely relaxes beneath me.

I push sweaty hair off her forehead, smiling down at her. "I missed you," I say. Her eyes open, shining with unshed tears. "I missed you too."

***

An hour later, she’s sitting on my counter, her legs swinging back and forth as she nibbles on a piece of toast. After the most intense sexual experience of my life, we hopped in the shower together. The hot water cascaded over us, steam filling the room as our hands traced familiar paths over each other’s skin. Words were still difficult, but we managed without them, settling for washing each other with the same passion. There was no fooling around, but somehow, it felt… right.

Tonight, I’m making her burgers, but as she claimed she was starving to death, I allowed her to break my pre-dinner snack rule.

"I love sourdough," she says, a happy smile on her face. Her lips curl up, and I notice the way her eyes light up when she talks about food. I love something too, I think, dangerously.

"Yeah? I’ll keep some here then." Her legs swing again, and she starts humming as she takes another bite, the sound soft and melodic. The ache in my chest grows. I’m already dreading tomorrow night when she leaves me again. Having her here is what I need. When she’s not around, my mind is tortured with thoughts of when I’ll see her again.

I continue to chop onions as small as I can manage, the knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board before I swipe them into the bowl of ground turkey. The sharp scent makes my eyes water slightly. I don’t know if she’s noticed it’s not beef yet, but surely that realization is coming. The argument won’t be won by her if she does—I'm confident in my turkey burger skills.

In the fridge, some of our sauce from last weekend remains. I pull out the Tupperware and add a few tablespoons into the mix, then set the remainder in the sink. It’ll be bad in the next few days anyway.

"So, I think Henrietta has a thing for Harry."

I chuckle, wiping my hands on a towel. "Really? I don’t know how to feel about that."

"Me either. Why can’t our parental figures be asexual blobs?"

Shaking my head, I start mixing the meat with my hands, feeling the cool, sticky texture as it combines. "Because then we wouldn’t have been born."

With her toast gone, she hops down, the soft thud of her feet against the tile making me smile. Her hands snake around my waist. "Can I help?" she asks, her breath warm against my back.

"Are you capable of making a salad?" I tease.

Her hands snap off me, and I glance over my shoulder. They’re now planted firmly on her hips. She’s wearing one of my shirts and nothing else, and the sight is unbelievably erotic. I can make out the outline of her pebbled nipples beneath the fabric. "No fries?" she asks, her tone laced with feigned anger.

"Nope." I feel a playful slap on my shoulder and snicker. "Vegetables, Miss Parker. Chop, chop." She stomps away to the fridge and comes back with everything we need for the salad.

After forming the patties, I drop them into the hot frying pan. The sizzle fills the kitchen, accompanied by the mouthwatering aroma of cooking meat. "God, that smells good."

I hum in agreement as her knife quickly works through cucumbers and carrots, the crisp sound of chopping adding to the symphony of our cozy domestic moment. While I finish frying, she sets out plates and piles the salad mix onto them. With provolone melting on top of the turkey burgers, I place them on the waiting buns and carry the plates to the table.

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