Page 103 of When It's Us
And I can’t breathe for a second.
Not because of her body, though yeah, that’s pretty fucking incredible. It’s the way she’s looking at me. Open. Trusting. Like for her, this isn’t about just getting off. And I realize it’s not about that for me either.
I’m fucking terrified of screwing this up. But the weight of that doesn’t stop me.
I line myself up with her entrance, slick and swollen, still tender from earlier.
Fromme.
The fact that she’s still soft and ready, that her body remembers mine…fuck, that does something to me.
My eyes lock on hers as I try to slow the pounding of my heart.
The first thrust isn’t fast or rough. It’s deep. Slow.
Ginger gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist, fingers digging into my shoulders. “God, Hutch, yes…”
I bring my mouth to her again, one hand cupping her cheek. “Feel okay, baby?”
She nods, breath catching. “More than okay.” A pause, the quieter, “You feel so good.”
I rock my hips into hers again, slow and deep, and her head falls back, lips parting on a soft moan that punches straight through my chest.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s it. Take it, baby.”
She clings to me tighter, legs cinched around me like a vice, every inch of her slick heat pulling me in. “Don’t stop.”
“Not planning to.” I cup the back of her head, careful not to pull her hair, and press my forehead to hers. “Not tonight.”
Her fingers slip into my hair, tugging me down until our mouths meet again—hot, slow, and deep. Her kiss is more than anything I could want, and fuck—I never want this night to end.
Her breathing goes a bit erratic, and her hips lift to meet each of my strokes.
“Right there,” she pants against my lips. “Don’t stop, Hutch—please don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you,” I rasp, one hand moving under her thigh to hold her open for me. The other tangled in her hair as I drive her into the mattress. “Fuck you feel perfect.”
I feel her tighten around my length, her gasps coming quicker, now.
“Let go for me,” I murmur, hips pistoning faster. Come for me, Ginger. Let me feel it.”
She shatters with a cry, her nails digging in, her whole body arching as she falls apart on my cock—hot wet, clenching like crazy. I chase her orgasm with my own, whispering her name over and over.
A groan rips from my chest as I bury myself deep, pulsing inside her, heart pounding like it might crack wide open. I press my face to her neck, loving the way she’s trembling beneath me.
“Shit,” I breathe against her skin. “I think I forgot my own name.”
Her laughter shakes the bed, and I chuckle, carefully lifting off her and rolling to my side.
“I think you earned a little nap,” she murmurs, snuggling into me like she belongs there.
I grin against her hair. “Only if you’re staying for it.”
Hutch
You’dthinkI’dbeexhausted. We’ve been going nonstop since coming back from the bar, and with the way she’s curled against me now, her head on my shoulder, our legs tangled in the blankets while she traces the tattoos on my chest with a lazy finger, I should be tired. But I’m not.
Okay, that’s a lie. My body is exhausted and sated in a way it hasn’t been in a really long time and my mind is still. I’m physically comfortable with her heat next to me. But that feeling in my chest is back, an uneasiness. Not excitement, not fear; it feels like standing too close to the edge of a cliff, mesmerized by the dizzying heights, but unable to yank myself away from the edge.
