Page 60 of The Loophole

He kept talking as he held the base of my cock and lowered himself onto it. I really liked how relaxed and chatty he was. It counterbalanced my nervousness, somehow. “We’re starting off with your basic cowboy, which I definitely like,” he said. “From here, we can move on to the launch pad, or deep impact, or the folded deck chair?—”

“You’re making those up.”

He smiled at me and draped his arms over my shoulders. “I swear I’m not.”

When he winced a little, I asked, “Are you okay, Em? Should we stop?”

“I’m fine. It’s just going to take me a minute to get used to being stretched like that.”

He exhaled slowly and held still. At that point, he’d taken every inch and was sitting on my hips. I kissed him gently and ran my hands down his thighs, and he rested his forehead against mine.

In that small, quiet moment with our bodies joined, I felt so many emotions all of a sudden. I didn’t even know what to do with them all.

But pretty soon he began to move, sliding up and down on my cock, which sent waves of pleasure radiating through me. I was glad to have that shift in focus—until I realized this was even more intense and emotional.

I’d never felt like that during sex. It had always been purely physical, in my experience. The fact that a pretend relationship had led to the first real connection of my life wasn’t lost on me.

Not that this was the time to overanalyze it. Instead, I focused on Embry and his reactions. After the line between his brows eased and he started to relax, we shifted positions. He rolled onto his back and put his ankles on my shoulders,grinning as he murmured, “Folding deck chair.” That made me chuckle.

I slid into him carefully and started with shallow thrusts. I was worried about hurting him, but he muttered, “Harder, please,” so I did as he asked. When I shifted slightly, it became pretty obvious that I’d found a good angle. He began moaning and bucking underneath me, which was incredibly gratifying.

Once I knew he wasn’t just okay but thoroughly enjoying himself, I could let go. I was overwhelmed by pleasure and sensation, by Embry, by the incredible connection that electrified the air around us. He clawed my back, arching off the bed, wild and totally uninhibited as he blurted, “Yes, fuck me. Make me yours.” A sound tore from me that was close to a growl. I fucked him harder still, and he threw his head back and moaned.

He slipped a hand between us and started jerking himself off, which sent us racing toward the same destination. Pretty soon, he cried out and shot onto his stomach, and that tipped me over the edge. I braced a hand against the headboard and yelled as I came, my voice unrecognizable to me as I shot deep inside him.

It was so intense that it left both of us shaking and gasping for air. I rolled us over, trying and failing to stay inside him, and he curled up on top of me as we caught our breath. When he could speak again, he murmured, “That was incredible.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“Any regrets?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Good.” He kissed my chest, and I wrapped my arms around him. After a pause, he said, “Sorry if I scratched you. I got carried away.”

“I liked it.” He grinned at that and nuzzled my neck.

I felt him shiver, and it immediately spurred me to action. “Be right back,” I said, as I shifted him onto the mattress and got up. “I’m going to draw us a bath.”

When I returned, I scooped him into my arms. As I carried him to the bathroom, I told him, “I want to spend all evening taking care of you.”

I expected him to argue, but instead he murmured, “That sounds wonderful.”

The splash of body wash I’d added to the tub had foamed up like bubble bath, perfuming the warm, damp air with a sweet orange blossom scent. I put Embry down and reached for the hem of his cum-stained tank top, but he grabbed my hands to stop me. There was turmoil in his eyes when he looked up at me and whispered, “I want to leave it on. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” I obviously had questions, but it was best not to push. He’d tell me what that was about when he was ready.

I climbed into the tub and offered him my hand. He hesitated for a moment before grasping it and stepping into the hot water.

He leaned against me, and I put my arms around him. A minute ticked by before he whispered, “I know wearing a shirt in the tub is weird, but I don’t want you to think I’m ugly.”

“Why would I think that?”

“Because of my scar.”

“That’s why you wanted to keep your shirt on?”

He nodded. “That night when I showed you, it was dark, and you didn’t see all of it. I’m afraid you’ll take one look at it and be so disgusted that you won’t want me anymore.”

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