Page 85 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“You’re not going to monologue about how pretty I am like this?” I raise a brow, a smirk tugging on my lips, rolling my hip over his cock. “No emotionally repressed love confessions? No poetic metaphors? Really slacking on the praise today, babe.”
His hands tighten on my hips, eyebrows creasing in pleasure.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he presses out, biting the inside of his cheek. “And I’m about two seconds away from begging.”
“That’s better,” I say with a grin, and palm his cock, keeping it steady as I finally,finallysink down onto him. As if I haven’t been waiting for this all afternoon.
We both groan, and his head falls back against the couch, exposing his neck, and I lean in close, licking a path from his Adam’s apple to his ear.
“God, I love this part,” I whisper seductively, rolling my hips, only enough to make him twitch inside me. “The part where you lose your mind and forget your own name.”
His laugh turns into a moan when I move, my hips slow and steady. It doesn’t take me long to find a rhythm that makes him moan incoherently beneath me. And he lets me take my time, hands trailing up my back, eyes locked on mine. Telling me I’m the only thing that exists.
“Fuck, baby … look at you,” he breathes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Riding me so good. I don’t even know how I lived without this.”
“Probably very boringly. With a tragic lack of orgasms.”
“Oh,definitely.”
I lean in and kiss him, slow and messy. “Then stop talking and let me finish what you started.”
He doesn’t argue, his grip tightening on my hips, giving me more support as I ride him faster. One of his hands lets go, but only to wander over my front and palm my breast roughly, before tracing a path to my pussy and circling my clit.
And when I come again, I come hard and loud while digging my nails into his shoulders. He follows right after, swearing into my mouth in a messy kiss, hands gripping me tight, as if he never wants to let go.
We collapse in a tangled, sweaty heap on the couch. A car explodes in the movie we completely forgot existed, strangely symbolic for the orgasm I just had.
I rest my head on his chest, catching my breath, legs still shaking, muscles burning after the workout I put them through.
“Okay,” I mumble. “I vote next time, we skip the movie and get to the part where you turn me into a sentient puddle right away.”
“Agreed,” he says, brushing his fingers through my hair. “Although … I did kind of want to see how it ends.”
I glance at the screen. “Spoiler alert: Guy punches another guy, fucks the pretty woman, and then something explodes. Boom. End credits.”
“You’re very wise.”
“I contain multitudes. Especially post-orgasm.”
“God, I love you,” he says and presses his lips against my hair.
And suddenly the world stills. But then, just as suddenly, it explodes into a burst of color, my heart racing in my chest and tears springing into my eyes.
“Really,” he confesses, and I glance at him, brain caught in a circuit. “I love how you ramble when you’re nervous. How you try to hide it with sarcasm, but your eyes give you away every time.”
“So you’re saying my eyes are snitches?”
He chuckles. “Total snitches. And right now, they’re telling me you feel similarly. But I’d really like to hear you say it.”
I laugh, but it’s wobbly, turning into a sob. Because the realization settles within me—he means it. He’s not only saying it in a post-coital haze. Hemeansit. And I know he does, because I saw it coming.
AndI feel it back. I’ve felt it for weeks now, but I didn’t want to say it first because … what if he didn’t? What if he suddenly realized Marissa and Jay were right? What if I scared him off? What if I scaredmeoff?
But here we are. Still tangled up on this stupid couch, bodily and emotionally naked, and it feels right. I belong here, on top of him, in his house, in this exact moment.
“I love you too,” I say finally. Quiet. Steady. “Even if you think my eyes are traitors.”
Chapter 34
