Page 122 of On My Side
I move my hand from her belly to her thigh, my fingers digging into her stretch marks, her skin marked by her love. She rocks her body back to meet my thrusts with the same frantic energy I feel in my bones. She slips her hand beneath her body, gasping when her fingers circle her clit.
“Touching yourself for me, sweetheart?” I gasp, somehow able to form words in this state.
“Ungh.” Her response is muffled and unintelligible. “No. Touching myself for me,” she gasps, movements becoming jerkier and more desperate.
I bury my smile in her shoulder blade. “That’s my girl” I praise. “Do it for you, sweetheart.”
“Gonna come for you, though,” Audrey says, words garbled. “I’m close.”
I squeeze her nipple between my index finger and thumb, her responding cry an electrocution through my bones.
And then she’s gasping, body tensing around me as she falls apart.
“Aud,” I gasp, tightening my grip on her thigh and pulling her closer to me. “I can feel you coming, sweetheart. You feel so good.”
She cries out, and my balls clench as I come inside her, filling her body. I want her to feel me everywhere, the same way I feel her everywhere. I drop my hand from her breast, wrapping my arm around her and gently rolling us to the side so we’re spooning, my cock still pulsing inside her. She rests her head on my arm, breath heavy as I kiss the freckles on her back. There’s a handful of them, like whoever created her took care to place these marks only where they were needed, like they had a “less is more” mindset. Maybe they were right, because I’m able to kiss each and every one multiple times while we catch our breaths.
“So. Good,” Audrey breathes, and my chest inflates with pride at the fact this woman, who only looked at the sexual encounters of her past with disdain, is currently trembling with the aftershocks of her pleasure in my arms. That Sky’s audios made her give herself the pleasure she missed out on all those years, and that I get to give it to her now.
“So. Good,” I agree, exhaling shakily as I press my forehead to her shoulder. “So. Good.”
I’m not a scholar, but I am a reader. Even in romance, a genre that can be considered lowbrow, a plethora of words exist for everything. Synonyms for love, for beautiful, forgood… and despite having read over fifty romance books in the last year,good is the only word I can think of to describe how it feels to have her tucked into my front like this, how it feels to still be inside her. But maybe there’s a contradiction in the simplicity of the word, kind of like the contradiction in the simplicity of the word “love.” How can a word meaning so much, meaning something different to every human to exist, be so simple? So unoriginal?
Maybe that’s what this is. Having the woman I love, and the woman who loves me, in my arms is simplygood.
Chapter 40
Audrey
Playlist: Late Night Talking | Harry Styles
Sex with Ren was so mind-blowing that—dare I say it?—it was worth waiting a decade and a half for.
While I’m desperate to stay in the post-coital quiet, Ren reminds me I have to pee after sex.
Which is something my reckless assneverdid after sex in high school, so Ren mansplains why it’s important I do it.
“Don’t get up yet,” he says, flustered as he nudges me back against the sheets. He runs to the bathroom, a damp washcloth in hand. “Let me help clean you up.”
I adjust myself to watch, but instead of cleaning, he just stares. He put his glasses back on, and it takes me back to when he saw my toy for the first time.
“Speechless?” I tease, weaving my hand into his hair.
He nods and reaches his hand between my thighs. Instead of wiping away his cum, he uses his fingers to push it back into me. I gasp at the sensation, my pussy sensitive from his thorough fucking.
“I read that in a book once,” he murmurs, eyes fixated on my cunt. “Always wanted to try it.”
After going to the bathroom, I come back into his room wearing my glasses and an oversized black t-shirt with the phrase “Musical puns are my forte” across the front.
He does a double take when I enter, and I’m certain I do the same. He’s shirtless, his tattoos a dark contrast against his flushed skin, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and highlighting the V on his lower belly. Sky has tens of thousands of listeners, andI’mthe one who gets to see Ren like this.
“Where did those come from?” Ren asks, blinking in confusion at me.
“You gave me the shirt,” I remind him, peering down at it. Ren’s four inches taller than me, so while the shirt is tight across my chest, it hangs to my mid-thigh. He’s staring at my face, and it dawns on me. “Oh!” My hands fly to my face, touching the wire frames of my glasses. “These?”
He scoffs. “Yeah,those. ‘Those,’ she says, like the damn things didn’t appear magically on her face,” he mutters to himself.
“I keep contact solution and an extra pair in my purse, as well as extra meds. Did you think I came over tonight ready to raw dog it?”
