Page 51 of Swim To Me

My breath leaves my lungs in a whine when Grey dips the tip of his cock inside my wet heat, grabbing at my hip to steady both of us and keep me open.

Grey moans, not even trying to hold back his pleasure. I want to bottle it up and replay it over and over again. He presses in further, stretching me out, filling me up. “You feel so fucking good, Delilah. Fucking addictive. This tight little wet pussy, fucking perfect for me.”

My toes curl in thin air when Grey bottoms out, his balls hanging heavy against my inner thigh. I clench my eyes shut, ecstasy rippling across my body, tingling. Reaching back and beneath myself, I touch my clit with one hand, the other tangling with Grey’s fingers on my hip. I want to feel him. Ineedtoo.

I cry out when Grey starts to move, his thrusts fast and deep, his free hand coming up to grip the ball of my shoulder, holding me down and in place while he fucks me.

“Shit,Delilah. That’s it, gorgeous, touch yourself, chase your high. Look at you taking me so fucking good. So, fucking deep. Made for me.”

Mouth hanging open, I press and circle my flesh exactly the way I like it, thighs beginning to burn from the stretch and the lack of gravity. My stomach tightens, heart quickening, my mind peacefully quiet while I focus on the pleasant burn starting to build in my core.

Behind me, Grey presses a wet kiss to my flexed shoulder blade. “I can’t fucking stop. Your pussy milking me…ah…gonna fucking make me cum…”

I contract around him, walls beginning to flutter. I’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms I’ve had in the last twenty four hours, this one feeling just this side of being painful, to know I think my body is ready to tap out. “Grey—”

“Don’t fucking hold it, gorgeous,” he practically whimpers. Who knew hearing a man make that sound, knowing you’re the one doing it to him, could be so hot? “You’re doing so good… so good for me… perfect…”

I inhale sharply through my teeth, the balloon in the core on the cusp of bursting. I squeeze my pussy walls, hands scrabbling up his forearm, along the ridges of Grey’s stomach.

“I know, gorgeous. I know,” groans Grey. “Let it happen. Let it out.”

My orgasm rips through me painfully, hot and searing, all consuming. Grey pulses inside me, his hand leaving my hip to catch in my hair, pulling my upper body up and off the arm of the sofa, legs still dangling.

“Can I–fuck–can I… inside of you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I bob my head quickly. “Come inside of me, Grey.”

Grey thrusts once, twice, three times, his movements becoming shaky and jagged. On his next thrust, I feel him pulse, cock growing impossibly harder and thicker, until he’s spilling warmly inside of me.

Laboured pants fill the small space of my living room, the quiet ‘ah, mmhs’falling from Grey’s lips as he grinds against me, pushing himself as deep inside as humanely possible.

A warm hand wraps itself around the front of my throat, bringing my head back slowly, soft lips pressing against mineupside down. I sigh happily, the vibrations from my throat travelling across Grey’s hand.

When he leans back, Grey slithers the flat of his hand along the ladder of my ribs, cupping my breast and pulling out of me with a wet ribbon. The combination of us drips down my thighs, and down my shin, pooling on the floor.

Grey kisses the shell of my ear. “I’ll go get a cloth.”

Minutes after we’re both cleaned up, and dressed, my doorbell chimes with our dinner. We eat in companionable silence, Grey flicking across the TV channels until he settles on a fictional murder mystery show, while I dish out equal portions of sweet and sour chicken, rice, chips and noodles with sauce onto both plates.

I don’t know if Grey feels it, but I certainly do – the snapping of our intimate connection.

He’s stays quiet, while I swim back up into my head well aware that my body is tapped out for the night. So, what else can I offer him?

I get my answer as to whether Grey can feel the shift too, after dinner has been devoured, and I take our plates to the kitchen, rinsing quickly and stacking them into the dishwasher. Grey can feel it, I know it in the way he hovers about breakfast bar, unsure, unlike I’ve ever seen him before.

“Delilah? Do you want me to—”

“Stay.” I repeat my same word from last night. “We promised each other a full weekend, until Monday morning, didn’t we?”

He nods silently and I try to ignore the unsettled pang of pain shooting beneath my breastbone.

I’m obviously out of his system.

Once we crawl back into bed, I’m more than happy, more thanwillingsimply to just close my eyes and fall asleep. Tomorrow I’ll deal with the consequences of my actions, but until then I need a rest.

Grey, however, has other ideas.

“Can I kiss you, Delilah? One last time?” he whispers out into the darkness, his body beside mine but not touching.

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