Page 205 of Falling Backwards
I…can’tnotbelieve him.
He likes that I lost control because of him.
My nerve endings have started to stir out of the calmness they’d been drifting towards.Something new stirs with them, spurred on by our melding breaths and his confession from moments ago—it’s a new kind of wanting that is damn near tangible.I swear I feel it like I feel him and the pillow beneath my head and the blanket around us.
I get my hands around his face and lift mine to it.He answers with a proper kiss to my lips.
‘Fuck, Magnolia,’he had said.
I stutter one of my hands down his neck to his chest.
‘Love,’he had called me before.
As we melt through kiss after kiss, I get chill bumps from the fresh memory of him carrying me through my accidental orgasm without hesitation or fumbling—him biting my lip, meeting my thrusts.He recognized what I needed and gave it to me, unquestioning.
I slide my hand down farther to below the waistband of his pants, straight to where it wants to be.
Luke gasps out of our kiss and arches into my touch.He drops his forehead against mine, then exhales, “Oh, God.”
That new desire is growing in me, and I’m going to listen to it.Iknow whatheneeds, and I want to give it to him right back.I want to steal him away to myself from everything else right back.
I want him to lose control because of me too.
The flush that’s all over my body isn’t the same as the one from before.My embarrassment has been dismissed.Now I feel warm only from him.
Still, my hand is tentative on his hardness through his pants, though only because….
I lick my dry lips and say through our heavy breaths, “Tell me.Tell me what to do for you.What you want.”
“What I want?”he asks in husky incredulity.“I want anything you wanna give me.I’m living foranythingyou wanna give me, Maggie.Touch me like this, or touch me for real, or let me do what you did while you wrap your legs around me and kiss me senseless—I don’t care.I’m all yours.”
My heart swells in my ribcage so fast that it feels like something is going to burst.
I put my hands to his chest and push.There’s no need for me to tell him out loud to move because he already starts doing it; he sits up and I do, too, then shift around and nudge him again until he’s on his back and I can put my knees on either side of his hips.
I settle solidly on him.I slant forwards and put my chest close to his.“I’m allyours,” I promise him back.
He groans and moves my hair back from my face with both hands, taking my head in them so he can take my mouth in a kiss.As I meet every press and pull of his lips, something about this makes me shiver: maybe the way it feels to be on him like this, or the cool air of the room rushing over where I’d been trapped between him and the bed, or just how he’s kissing me with us being suspended in these moments.Maybe it’s all of it together.All I know is that little trembles are skipping through me and the only thing I can do about them is kiss him more, follow his lowered hands’ guide of me against him, and reach down to tug at the band of his pants.
It’s all quick: I have to adjust how I’m straddling him and prop myself up on one hand, and he helps me move the pants out of the way and his underwear goes with them, and then he’s in my grip and I can’t tell which one of us moans louder—I don’t even knowwhymy moan is so closely matched to his.
Except of course I do, I realize as we rush into another smoldering kiss like there’s any threat of someone hearing us, like we have to quiet each other with our mouths.Of course I know why exploring his arousal pulls a low gasp out of my chest just like it pulls a sharp one out of his.Of course I know why this matters to me as much as it does to him.
Luke is my ten inside and out.
It’s heaven to touch him.
It’s electrifying to bring him pleasure.
It’s fulfilling to make him happy.
It’s incredible to love him.
My heartbeat stumbles.
My hand slips into a steady rhythm along his hard length to the tune of all his sounds of liking—even when our lips are pressed together, those sounds aren’t quite stifled, and I can’t get enough of that.The rest of him also does its best to show me what this is doing to him: his kisses are earnest, his hips are sending thrusts into my strokes, his hands are under my shirt and all over my body and in my hair.
He also keeps landing touches on my eyebrow—gentle and firm and fleeting and rapt—and every time, it twists up some new part of me.
