Page 41 of Love Fast

My groan interrupts her. I can’t help it. Her juices coat my fingers and I’m dizzy with the need to feel more. To slide into her and have my cock coated in her. To fuck her until we both forget our names.

But first, I want more. More of everything.

I bite down on her other breast and soothe the opposite nipple between my thumb and finger, rolling and pressing.

I kiss the soft fresh of her breasts over and over, then suck the side of one, knowing I’ll leave a mark. It will take a week for the bruise to fade, and every time she gets in the shower until then, she’ll think of everything we did tonight.

“Byron,” she whispers.

I press up on my palms to admire my work. Her fingers skate over the spot I just marked.

“I haven’t had a hickey since…”

“Don’t tell me,” I say. “I don’t want to hear about anyone else. Only us. Only now.”

She presses her palms on my cheeks. “There’s only us. Only now.”

Her words make me feel raw. Like she’s stolen my invisible shield. She’s unhooked my armor, unmasked me. She’s seeing through to my soul. The real me, not the guarded, careful strategist. Everything that’s left is hers.

We stare at each other like we’re newly glued together, waiting to set. We can’t move or we’ll destroy everything.

“I want you so badly,” I confess.

She widens her legs in response, inviting me to take what I want. My heart thumps in my chest, trying to wake me from a lust-induced coma.

I’m desperate to slide into her, but at the same time, I don’t want to move. I don’t want to undo anything. It’s like a spell has been cast over us and I don’t want it to break.

Her gaze falls on my mouth and she trails her finger over my lips, sweeping her tongue over her bottom lip. How can just the tip of her finger feel so good?

“Tell me what you want,” I say.

“Kiss me,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering shut.

I crash my lips to hers and shift my erection between her legs. All I feel is hard and soft, need and desperation. All I want is her.

Twisting my hips, I rock over her slick folds, coating my cock in her wetness, my heart thudding—a warning that it doesn’t know if it can survive this. Survive Rosey.

Pulling away, I grab a condom and fumble with it, my fingers working too slow for the rest of my impatient body.

Rosey whimpers as I roll the condom down my shaft. “Now, Byron. Please.”

“That’s right, Rosey. I want to hear you. I want to know you, know what you want. I want to give you what you need.”

I pull in a breath, trying to steady myself, trying to regain some kind of control of the situation, but it’s futile. Something has taken over my body and I have no conscious choice left. I’m being driven by desire, and it’s pointless trying to wrestle the wheel away.

I position myself on top of her, my gaze flitting between where the tip of my cock rears toward her entrance and Rosey’s desperate expression. It’s not just her words that are begging me to fuck her. Her ripe, hard nipples, her hips undulating underneath me, the eyes that tell me she’d do anything to have me right now.

I’ve never recorded sex with a woman, but for a second, I wish there were cameras all around us. I can’t remember sex ever feeling this intense, this necessary, this important. I want it to go on forever, and then I want to replay it every day for the rest of my life.

I slide in slowly. Rosey’s eyes widen—half pleasure, half disbelief—and I swear to god, if the tight clench of her wasn’t about to kill me, her expression would finish the job. It’s too much. I can’t take it. I still, squeeze my eyes shut, try to focus on something outside this bedroom.

The rain has started again. The wind howls around the walls of the cabin, like it’s trying to get in. This is it. The storm. The big one. We should be listening for tornado warnings so we can get to the shelter, but at the moment, I know that’s impossible for both of us. There’s no going back now.

I breathe and slide deeper, never taking my eyes from her face. Her mouth falls open and she lets out a silent cry. I hear it in every cell of my body. This isn’t sex. This is some kind of transcendent, spiritual experience. My entire body is vibrating. I don’t know where I end and she begins.

“Okay?” I whisper.

“Byron.” It’s more than my name she’s saying. She’s asking me a question—is this as good for you as it is for me? She’s wondering whether she’s going to survive this. She’s asking for more.

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