Page 108 of Chasing Forever
She rolls her hips and grinds down, and I swear I could come in my pants. She flicks the button on my jeans. It’s a little frantic, her hands wet with clay while she’s full of awkward laughter and cursing. I inch up and finally get my pants removed, then her panties. Somehow, we manage for me to line myself up to her core and drag her forward.
“Shit, condom?”
“Oh god, yeah, of course,” I say.
“Brooks, I was tested after my last partner, and I’m on the pill since I don’t want to get pregnant by accident.”
“Me too. I came back fine, and there hasn’t been anyone since.”
She smiles at me, “So, we’re good.”
“You sure you’re okay with it?”
She nods and wraps her arms around my neck, holding me to her. “Yeah, I don’t want anything between us.”
She sinks down slowly, and I almost black out.
It’s everything. Heat and pressure and her mouth falling open in a gasp, my name tumbling from her lips. I grip her hips and thrust up, watching her fall apart above me. She chases the friction and control she wants.
She rides me slowly at first, drawing her pleasure out, her lips brushing mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I thrust up harder and faster, and her moans grow louder.
I really hope no one is walking by outside.
Her climax rips through her, and I follow right behind her, groaning into our kiss as my release hits me.
She stays in my lap, and I run my fingers along her skin, our bodies connected until our racing hearts calm.
Eventually, she laughs against my shoulder. “Maybe we should be choosing activities where we’re far apart in proximity.”
“Appears so.” I chuckle.
“You couldn’t even hold out to make a bowl.”
“Next time I’m going to sit in front of you in nothing but my boxer briefs, and we’ll see how long you hold out.”
“Hey, I made a whole bowl with your hard dick pressed to my back and your lips on my skin. I deserve a reward.”
“Didn’t I just give you that?”
She laughs and lifts off me. I miss her immediately.
There’s wet clay on the floor, the stool, the table. My clothes lay wet and ruined on the floor. But my favorite part is the flushed look on her face as she brushes damp hair out of her eyes.
Hours later, after two more rounds, we lie on the ground, a blanket under us and the lights casting our flesh in a soft glow. She nuzzles into my chest, and I keep my arm around her shoulders, addicted to touching her soft skin.
“Can I ask you a question?” I worry about broaching the subject that could ruin our night.
“Sure.”
“That morning with the woman from Lincoln… she wanted your coffee mugs, and you acted like you weren’t the potter?”
Her finger traces the dips and valleys of my abs, running up my chest, though her eyes never meet mine. “I’m not sure I can handle the criticism.”
“She was in love with them, so disappointed she couldn’t buy them. That says something.”
Lottie picks up her head and rests it on my chest. “I started throwing pottery after Holden. I wanted to control something because my body and my mind felt so out of control. It kept me going, so it’s hard to share.”
“But you give them as gifts and put them in the store.”
