Page 75 of The Art of Catching Feelings

“Stop?” He gave her a wicked grin, and she pushed his head down, her hand at the nape of his neck as she guided him back to her.

“Don’tstop,” she said. “Please, Chris, don’t—”

He didn’t stop, but he did slide his whole tongue inside her, and something about that, the memory of the way he’d saidmy tongue in your pussy, as far as it can go, was all she needed. She exploded in a thousand tiny pinpricks of light, her body tensing up with the orgasm and then releasing slowly, slowly, until she felt the last of the aftershocks ripple through her.

He leaned forward to rest his head on her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair, her chest still heaving, her breathing a little ragged. “I thought,” she said, “that wasn’t the goal.”

“Foryou,” he said. “It was absolutelymygoal to make you come. And I’m very goal-oriented.”

She laughed. “Get up here. And take your pants off.”

“Someone’s bossy.” But it took him only a second to comply, his sweats on the floor, his dick jutting out. The hand-drawn abs were ridiculous, they should’ve taken her right out, but somehow they didn’t. She’d had no idea that sex could be so intense but also so…fun. She was having a great time.

“You know,” she said, straddling his lap once he’d joined her on the couch. “I’m on birth control.”

“Yeah?”

She figured he probably knew that—she hadn’t hidden her pill container when she left it on the bathroom counter in her hotel room. But she wasn’t just giving her medical history, and she figured he knew that, too.

“We could…” She slid against him, grinding her pelvis into his erection. She was still extra sensitive from her orgasm before,and even that slight friction made her vision go a little blurry. “Without a condom. Do you want to?”

“Fuck, you have no idea.” He was holding himself so taut she could see the corded muscles in his neck, the veins in his forearms ridged as he gripped her thighs.

“I bet it would feel really…” She pressed against him harder, deliberately teasing. “…reallygood.”

Chris gave a groan, his fingers digging into her as he lifted her up and settled her right on his dick. That feeling of being suddenlyfull, of being stretched around him, was so exquisite that another orgasm rolled through her body, taking her by surprise. He held her through it, letting her put all her weight on him, her cheek flattened against his shoulder. It wasn’t until she’d stopped trembling that he started to move under her.

“Meet me here, Dee,” he said. “Come on, baby.”

She bracketed his body with her knees, taking him even deeper as she pumped her hips once.

“That’s it,” he said. “Ride me.”

She felt boneless and wrung out, but humming with enough adrenaline that she could fuck him hard, barely noticing when she was moving on her own versus when he was lifting her hips and bringing her down on him again and again. She knew he was going to come a second before he did, the way his body tightened, the choked growl he let out from his throat. And then she could feel him filling her up, the warm rush of it.

They stayed like that for a few moments, whether because they were too spent to move or because they were afraid of whatever mess they’d make when they did, she didn’t know. Probably both.

“You might need a new couch,” she said.

“Mmm,” he said. “I have a steam cleaner.”

“Industrial?”

He laughed, lifting her off him finally and setting her down on the couch. “Wait here just a minute.”

She thought maybe he meant to go get the steam cleaner right there and then, but when he came back, he was holding a wet washcloth. He knelt in front of her, using the warm cloth to wipe the stickiness off her inner thighs.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly embarrassed. “I can do that. You don’t—”

“I want to,” he said.

He washed her carefully, then pressed a kiss to her knee before offering her his hand. “Need some help up?”

“I’m going to stay here,” she said. “I can’t move.”

“Don’t make me sleep in that giant bed all alone.”

“That wouldn’t make me a very good guest,” she said.

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