Page 30 of One More Time
Nicky’s pace increased, his body shifting to a higher gear without any input from his mind.
He felt the tiny flutter of the muscles inside her, right before she wrapped her legs completely around his hips, holding him hard and fast inside her. With small, purposeful movements he ground into her, increasing the pressure on her clit.
And then Lucy goddamn detonated.
She panted his name, over and over as her back arched and her legs quaked. Her body squeezed his cock so hard it was just short of painful. So unbelievably good as he rocked inside her.
He alternately cursed and prayed into her hair as spasms of release racked his body. His whole fucking body. His earlobes. His kneecaps. Every-fucking-where.
‘Holy shit,’ he rasped as the flashes of light began to clear from his vision. ‘Holy shit.’
‘Yeah,’ Lucy breathed. She laughed, pure and unrestrained as her hands worked a clumsy path over his back.
‘What was that?’ he asked, like a complete moron.
He felt a little less like a doofus when she answered, ‘No fucking clue. I really don’t even know.’ And then began laughing again.
They lay like that, laughing like weirdos as he slowly went soft inside her.
Then Nicky kissed her, tender sweeps of his lips. Her mouth. Her cheekbones. Her eyelids.
Suddenly, he realized he was probably suffocating her with the full weight of his body and rolled off to her side. He quickly dealt with the condom, tossing it in a garbage can that was so close he didn’t even have to get up.
He breathed out a sigh and maneuvered himself and Lucy, bendy as a rag doll, so that his arm was wrapped around her and her head was on his shoulder.
The bed was a disaster. The comforter was in nine different kinds of lumps under them, with pillows hanging half-off the bed, but it didn’t matter. Her head on his shoulder was everything he needed.
The song on the little stereo turned again, another Cure song, and Lucy’s eyes closed. She smiled, like she had in the car when ‘Little Wing’ was playing. Her foot, with its neon-blue-painted toenails, began moving in time with the music.
‘Which one is this?’ Nicky asked.
‘“Just Like Heaven.”’
‘I need to listen to The Cure more.’
‘Good idea,’ she muttered dreamily.
Then she rolled over, folding her arms on his chest and gazing up at him, little wisps of her bangs stuck in her long eyelashes.
‘You know a lot about music,’ she said.
‘So do you.’
‘But I’m just a fan,’ she said, curling her leg over his. ‘You actually play. Do you write?’
The sappy-ass grin that took over his face couldn’t be helped. Couldn’t be resisted. He was that fucking gone for this girl.
He smacked a kiss to her nose and said, ‘Wait right here!’ before hopping off the bed.
Nicky ran out of the room and through the house.
He heard her laughter and a garbled ‘Where are you going?’ from behind him.
Nicky barreled out the back door and hissed at the cold night, cursed June in Delaware because it was a ball-shriveling sixty degrees at night. Like it was geography and not the fact that he was buck-ass-naked that was the issue.
He raced to the Jeep and yanked his battered old guitar case from the back. A gift from his mother. A parting gift, as it turned out, before she ran off to Florida or wherever the fuck she went first.
Nicky’s bare feet slapped on concrete and grass. On wood planking and then the cold linoleum of the kitchen. He made sure to lock the door behind him and then chargedback into Lucy’s bedroom holding his guitar case up like a prize.
