Page 63 of Between Us

“But this pink here?” He snaps the fabric against my sensitive skin. “It looks so fucking pretty on you, baby.”

Internally, I fuckingmelt. I’ve never been called that by anyone. And I’m more thankful now for that than ever—knowing it can’t get better than the gravelly way it falls from Adrian’s lips.

Before I’ve processed that one word, he goes on, “I know it’ll be even prettier when you’ve soaked right through it.”

Panting, I look up at him as he starts to push one finger into me at the same moment. It takes me by surprise—the good kind of surprise. The kind I’ve started to remember since meeting him.

He holds my eye contact as he slowly pushes into me, using his thumb to slowly work my clit when I tense around him.

“Shh, relax.” He kisses my neck and settles on the nape, under my hairline, and gently sucks.

Whether it’s his words, or all the different ways he’s touching me, I let my body give into his control. It’s not that I didn’t want to from the start, but it’s been a while since I was with anyone—and none of those boys were Adrian.

“That’s my girl,” he praises against my skin once he’s pushed inside me fully. Moaning, I brace my good foot on the cushion and gently buck against his hand.

“Impatient, little thing,” he teases.

I am, I want to scream, although it comes out as an unintelligible whine.

After a few, slow strokes he asks, “Think you can handle another one?”

“Yes,” I breathe out.

A low groan falls from his throat as he pulls all the way out, only to line a second finger up and pushes both inside me. This time he doesn’t let me adjust. He pushes into me in one, deliciously tortuous pump of his hand.

“Ah,Adrian,” I cry. “Fuck.” There’s a little bit of pain, but it’s gone in an instant. Morphing into pleasure.

Clumsily, I grab onto his forearm with one hand and push his other hand up my top. His knuckles lightly move up my chest until he makes contact with my simple, cotton bra. He pauses for half a second when he gets to the swell of my breast.

I don’t show off my chest that much, despite how often my friends insist I should. So, even though I don’t necessarilytryto hide everything that’s going on under there, I think there’s a difference between seeing my silhouette in clothes and actually holding the full weight in your hand.

Adrian seems to agree as his hand gently cups me, seeming to test how I fit there.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he confirms, his low voice like a prayer.

His exploring touch turns into something more possessive and firmer as he grasps my breast harder, giving it small, pulsing squeezes. It feels good—more than good,amazing.

It’s better than any other time I’ve been with anyone else. But I know my body well enough to know that the slow, languid strokes aren’t going to get me where I need to be.

Turning my face into his bare chest, I whisper, “Faster.”

He does what I say but surprises me by removing his hand from my breast and grabbing one of my wrists off his leg. “Show me.” I watch as he slides my hand under my panties, but he doesn’t let go.

With one hand, he continues pumping into my wet heat as the fingers on his other hand entangle with mine and he pushes us against my clit.

“Show me what you need, Blake, and I’ll give it to you.”

Nodding, I turn back to lay my head on his chest—reveling in the feel of his skin against mine. Pushing down harder than he was before, I guide our fingers in tight circles. As we fall into a rhythm, his other hand moves faster inside me, matching the speed I’ve set.

After a couple of seconds, he seems confident to take over again. Brushing my hand aside, he settles his palm against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and continues the tight, firm pattern as he pushes into me again and again.

His now free hand moves back up my crew neck and grabs the full weight of my breast again, flicking the peaked bud with his thumb. And the fact that I can feel myself on his fingers still, only adds to the sensations burning through me.

His other hand works my core faster, as do his movements to my pinched nipple over my bra. I’m lost in the sensation of having Adrian’s full, lustful attention on me that I don’t see my orgasm coming.

But that doesn’t stop it—if anything, it hits me even harder because I wasn’t expecting it. Crying out, partly because I try to push my hips up using both feet as leverage, forgetting my ankle, and twisting around to search for some form of contact with Adrian.

Seeming to know what I need, his lips drop to mine. It’s an awkward angle, but that doesn’t stop him from nibbling on my bottom lip and slipping his tongue into my mouth as I ride out my orgasm.

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