Page 46 of Edge of Ruin
She shot a puzzled look over her shoulder. “Show you what?”
“That it’s okay,” I said. And just waited.
It worked again, just as it had before. She thought about it for a moment, her full, rosy lip caught seductively between her teeth.
Then she straightened her spine, tossed her hair back, and sauntered over to my bed. Taking her time. She climbed on, positioning herself on her hands and knees, presenting her perfect ass. She looked back, with that secret, alluring smile, and parted her thighs, undulating. “Convinced?”
I didn’t bother to reply. Seconds later, I was in position, condom in place. My fingers rejoiced at her flawless skin, her lithe muscles, her sweet curves. I teased the secret shadows of her pussy while I kissed the mandala tattoo, playing with her sensitive clit.
She squirmed and moaned and lunged back against me, wet and hot, but I took my own sweet time easing inside her. The tight, hot clutch of her was sweet torture on my cock. She clung to me, her pussy flushed and full. A juicy, suckling kiss.
I let her rock back to take me deeper, a little more with each stroke, until I was buried deep. Then some gasping, panting minutes of stroking and petting, licking her back, working her clit, and she started to make catlike sounds, pressing back. Demanding that I move deeper. Harder.
Yes. Now she was ready.
I thrust, hypnotized by the shiny pink lips of her pussy clinging to my flushed, gleaming shaft. I withdrew and drove in again, again, seeking the strokes that made her soften and yield and shiver, using that subtle, inner awareness I’d never really brought into focus until I was making love to her. Now that I’d discovered it, I was strung out on it. Life was going to be so flat, so flavorless, without her.
That thought stabbed into me like a blade. My hands tightened on her hips. And something inside me cracked wide open.
I lost control. Moved inside her with the energy of a lifetime of unsatisfied need, seeking that blinding moment where I wouldn’t have to think, or fear.
It hit me, and I exploded into blinding nothingness.
When I finally surfaced again, Vivi was wiggling beneath me on the quilt, kicking at my ankles. “Roll over,” she said tartly. “I can’t breathe.”
I rolled over, and she pulled away, sitting up. Her eyes were very wide. “That was, um, intense,” she said, her voice small.
“I’m sorry,” I said, alarmed. “Did I hurt you?”
“A little, but it was really exciting. I came, of course. You always make me come. But you weren’t with me anymore. At the end. I felt, well ... alone.”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt her withdrawal like a cold wind. I reached out, but she shrank back, and I let my hand drop.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling helpless.
“I told you. It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“Wait for me while I go take this thing off, okay?” I asked.
“Okay.” She didn’t move. I waited, watching her until she rolled her eyes and obliged me. She slid between the sheets.
“You won’t go?” I asked. “Promise?”
“No,” she said. “I promise I won’t go.”
I smoothed the quilt over her, my face reddening. I was acting like a little kid. Afraid she would disappear like a puff of smoke. Damn. I was a goner.
“The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll come back,” she said, waving for me to go.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and turned on the cold water. I splashed my face, tried to think clearly, and abandoned the effort, after about five seconds.
All I wanted in the world was to hold her again. Wrap myself around her in a grip that she could not even hope to break.
I wiped off my face and grabbed the little wastebasket from under the sink, since it was stupid to run back and forth every time.
She was still there when I got back. Holding the covers open. I slid into bed and embraced her.
She smiled at me, and something tight and fearful in my chest uncoiled. I resisted the sensation, automatically, and then yielded to it with a shudder of nameless emotion.
