Page 65 of David's Love

Gently, I thrust my rear out, and he peels his hand from my chest, grabs his hard-on, and presses the tip against my entrance while I part my legs.

“Let’s do this again,” he breathes against my neck, rocking his hips at a slow pace and filling me up rhythmically while squeezing my boobs.

Warm kisses cater to the nerve endings asleep in my skin, and my body responds with trembling and churning out more heat.

This feels good.

Him thrusting into me, my center getting wet and needy, his hands claiming me, his lips covering me in goosebumps.

He takes me to the peak so easily because I’ve craved this for so long. And when I shudder and moan, he kisses me hard and stays inside me, so I clench around him and sail an immense ocean of pleasure.

He enjoys his peak later, ramming into me, unleashing the tension harbored in him for a while.

His release drips down my legs, his breaths settling into a normal rhythm when he locks his arms around me and presses his lips against my hair.

“I missed you, beautiful woman,” he says, and my heart gets shattered.

12

ELIZABETH

Monday

Colorado

Oh…The aftermath of an amazing weekend feels like a hangover as I face a busy Monday.

I couldn’t leave right away.

We spent Friday night in that remote motel in Long Island, barely having a wink of sleep.

Lying naked between the sheets did us no favor as we couldn’t stop touching each other or pulling away from one another.

We couldn’t not find our way back to him being buried inside me and me shivering against his chest.

We were crazy, passionate, unable to satiate ourselves.

We wanted to catch up on things, yet we spent the entire time having sex.

We didn’t talk about anything of consequence or relevance. Anything that could connect us to reality.

We created our world and lived in it, knowing full well the clock was ticking, and he needed to go back to his life while I needed to go back to mine.

I don’t know about his life, but mine kind of sucks on Monday morning as I take a shower, and fresh off the plane from New York, I toss some regular clothes on and rush out the door.

I go straight for my new ride and make a quick stop at the cafe in the neighborhood, where I buy a cup of black coffee and a muffin.

I gobble down the muffin before sipping coffee and veering my car onto the road.

We left the motel on Saturday morning and had eggs, coffee, and cinnamon rolls at a local diner.

It felt weird to wear party clothes, but no one paid attention to us. And we felt so damn good, freed from the expectations of other people, not having to hide.

The diner wasn’t busy, and we occupied a window table where we ate and talked stupid stuff.

Nothing about his company, money, wealth, exes, and dramatic past made it into our conversation.

And nothing about me living a double life, jumping through hoops to see him, having a stalker, maybe, and still hiding my new car.

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