Page 67 of Just Come Over
He was in some other zone. His mouth was on Zora, and she was having the strongest orgasm he’d ever felt, just that fast. Or like she’d been teetering on the edge, waiting for it, all night long. The edges of her hands were still on the mattress, but that was all. Her entire upper body was arching off the bed, and so were her legs, until the only parts of her touching the bed were those hands, the back of her head, her heels, and where he had her pinned with his mouth.
She shook. She shuddered and spasmed, and she didn’t stop. She came like thunder and lightning, and he drank it all down.
She was still going, and he wasn’t going to make it much longer. He’d wanted this to be slow. He’d wanted it to be easy. He needed it to be now. When the spasms turned to shudders, he rolled off her, pulled her thong down her legs, grabbed a condom from the bedside table, and rolled it onto himself with hands that weren’t altogether steady.
“Tell me,” he said, “if anything’s too much.” Then parted her thighs with his hands, spiking up hard just from doing that, and, as slowly as he could possibly do it, shoved his way home.
She’d wondered, when he’d said it, why. When she felt him inside her, she knew.
She hadn’t had sex in three years. She’d only had it at all with two people. She’d never felt anything like him. She was lighting up like there was a fire burning inside, and Rhys was kissing her hair, twining the fingers of one hand through hers, moving slow. Almost all the way out, as glacially slowly as he could go, then a hard thrust in, over and over. It was a long, long way in and out, he was stretching her so deliciously tight, and she was buzzing from the inside out, tingling all the way down her inner thighs. All the way to hertoes.Like the best vibrator in the world, and every bit of him focused on making her feel it.
She was kissing his shoulder, his chest, her legs straightening again, her body tensing. He felt so good, but if she did what she needed...
He asked, “What?”
“Nothing.” She was so out of practice. She needed to move, to give him something back, but she didn’t want to move. She needed to lie back andfeelit, and to touch herself, too, but how could you do that?
He stopped moving and pressed his forehead to hers. “What?”
“I... I need it harder. With more... touching.” She wanted to explain. She didn’t know how.It’s been three years, and I’ve done it the same way all that time. I’m not sure I can get there like this, and I need to get there again so badly.
Selfish. Needy. But shewasneedy, and she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to bepleasured.
He smiled, then took her mouth in a slow, deep kiss and said, “Why didn’t you say so? Turn over, sweetheart. We’ll do it harder. With more touching.”
A surge of excitement, and she did it. On her hands and knees, but he said, “Oh, no,” lifted her hands, and slid them down the bed so her arms were all the way over her head, her upper body stretched out on the mattress, her thighs spread wide, her bum in the air.
Not the position you would want to assume the first time, or the way you’d want to have him see you after ten years, a pregnancy, and some weight shift past your best body. A posture that told you that all you could do was kneel there and let him look his fill, and then do whatever he wanted to you.
He made it hotter. “Here’s the other thing,” he said. “You have to hold still.” He shoved a pillow up under her belly. “Except for grinding into that. You can touch yourself, too. Make yourself come. Give it up while I’m inside you. Make me feel it.”
She started to say, “Wait,” but he drove into her, and she called out. He did it again, and she started to rock.
He stopped. “No. Hold still.”
“I can’t.”
He put a hand on the back of her neck. Lightly, but the shock of it went all the way through her body. “Do what I say,” he told her. “Hold still.”
The darkest, deepest thrill. She could have told him no. She didn’t. It was torture, and it was incredible. The slide of him inside her, giving her that electric buzz, the friction of the pillow, and then her hand, when she got it down there. And holding still, so there was only this to feel.
A hard thrust in, and Rhys saying, “You’re so bloody hot. You’re so tight.” A slow slide out, then another thrust. “I’m going to keep you... right here.” Pulling out again. “For as long as I want to... fuck you. Don’t you dare move.”
The buzz was hard and hot, making her shudder. Now, she had to move. She couldn’t help it.
His hand was at the back of her neck, brushing the hair away. And then he got his teeth there, bit down, and when she jerked, said, “Hold still.” After that, he put his hand on her upper back, just below her neck, and held her there.
The heat of it. The pressure of her cheek against the mattress, his heavy body over hers, his hand holding her down. Her upper body was stretched out long, her pelvis grinding against the pillow and her hand, and he was buried all the way inside her, grinding there, too. Pressure everywhere, pushing her higher, gritty and dark.
The orgasm came on her like a dragon on the flock. Gliding over the hills and down the valleys with a growl like thunder, the vibration of it entering the soles of your feet and echoing up your body, centering between your legs, corkscrewing down into you, pinning you there, pulling you with it, deeper and deeper, driving you into the ground.
His hand was hard, and so was his breath in her ears. He was swearing, moving faster. “Come on,” he said. “Come on. Do it. Give it up, or I’ll fuck you harder.”
“You... can’t...” she tried to say.You can’t make me,or something like that.
“I can,” he said, and his voice was the dragon’s. “And I will. Come on. Give it to me. It’s mine.”
The darkness was roaring in her head, and the dragon was on her. Vibrating into her bones, into her marrow, and she was catching fire.
