Page 39 of The Situation
“I think you liked that one, too.” He chuckles.
I try to answer him, but the words are a muffled mess.
“I’m two for two,” he says. “Now come on. Let’s see if we can go three for three.”
He can’t be serious. I know I talked a good game and I’ve dreamed of a man who can’t get enough of me, but this is definitely biting off more than I can chew. I’m so, so wonderfully spent.
I don’t know who I am or how I got here, exactly, because nothing in my life would lead me to believe that I’d find myself in a stranger’s bed in postcoital bliss—especially an impossibly sexy stranger like Tate. But this is what I needed, and it’s better than anything I could’ve imagined. I’m protected by my anonymity. I’m free to indulge, enjoy, and explore.
To have an adventure …
“Roll over,” he says, helping me flip onto my back.
He’s peering down at me with a sweet smile when I open my eyes, which does things to my heart that I choose to ignore.
“Are you tired?” he teases. His features are so bright, so clear. It’s impossible not to smile at him.
“What does it look like to you?”
“What does it look like to me?” He tilts his head to the side. “It looks like you’re far less stressed than you were this afternoon.” He runs a hand up the inside of my thigh, setting off a firework display inside my belly. “And you look even more beautiful lying naked on my bed, spread out just for me.”
I glance down to see his cock still rigid. Still needing a release. Still ready forme.
“How did you not come from that?” I ask. “I’ve gotten off twice, and you … haven’t?”
He scoots me up to the middle of the bed.
“I didn’t come because I wanted to ensure you were satisfied,” he says. “And when I get off, I want to be looking at your pretty face. Not that your ass isn’t amazing.”
I laugh, blushing.
“But I want to see you.” He winks at me as he spreads my legs and places himself between them. “Is this okay?”
What kind of question is that?
“This is perfect,” I say, spreading wider for him. “I want to watch you fall apart, too.”
And I do.
Even though I’ve often loathed it when a man hovers over me when he gets off, mostly because I’ve not gotten close to a release, Ineedto see this man fall apart.
Tate puts a hand next to my head before positioning himself once again at my opening. He enters me slowly this time, sinking into me inch by precious inch.
I moan softly as he hovers over me, moving in and out in a lazily perfect rhythm.
His mouth lowers, his eyes searching mine. My heart swells in my chest as I lift my head, meeting him suspended in the middle. He takes a quick breath before capturing my lips with his.
This round is different from the others. It’s not less or more, just not the same. It’s without the fire and passion of the first two. Instead, it’s sweeter with more connection.
Although I have absolutely no business leaning into this version of sex with him, I can’t help myself.
I wrap my arms around his middle, feeling the sheen of sweat coating his skin and his muscles flexing.
Just as my core tightens and that now familiar fire begins to catch, Tate’s body begins to tremble.
“Come,” I whisper, tilting my hips to get the best angle possible. “I’m ready to come again, too.”
“Fuck.”
