Page 54 of When It's Us
I lean into the hamstring stretch I’ve got her in, and she lets out a long moan that goes straight to my cock.
I nearly groan, looking down at her. She’s lying on her back, her bright copper curls fanned out on the pillow in the low light in the ceiling behind me.
“Feel good?”
She nods with a grimace. “Yeah, just tight.”
I can’t help it. Her words are so close to what I was thinking and with the position, I chuckle.
She rolls her eyes, and her lips tip up a bit before she shoves my hand off her bent knee. “You’re ridiculous.”
My shoulders shake with laughter as I dig my thumb into a particularly tight spot on the front of her thigh. “You said it.”
“And you’ll use every opportunity to turn everything I say into a sex joke.” She lets out a groan when I work over the knot with both thumbs and I smirk down at her.
“Well, yeah, I’m a guy. Sex is my thing.”
Her lashes flutter the slightest bit, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. It’s distracting as fuck. Not as distracting as what she says next.
“But it’s notourthing.” It’s not a question, but her eyes give her away, an unspoken challenge in them.
We’ve been dancing around this sexual tension for days. Maybe it’s finally getting to her. Christ knows it is me. I already miss how she tastes, the sounds she made as she worked her hips while I teased her through her panties. My cock had been so hard, it was all I could do not to jerk off when she’d gone out to take that call.
Would she be pissed if she knew I actually did jerk off to thoughts of her the next morning when I showered?
Then again, maybe she’s been thinking about it as much as I have, and she’s afraid to bring it up. I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on her since that first day.
I would absolutely love to make sexourthing. I let my gaze take a slow sweep of her body, then run a hand up the outside of her thigh, making her breath hitch.
Tilting my head, I pin her with a look and my heart pounds, betraying how even my voice comes out. “It was once our thing. Ortwice.” I shrug. “Could be again.”
She eyes me hesitantly, but I can see a new light glimmering in her eyes, the anticipation simmering below the surface.
I don’t know who moves first. Her or me. All I know is one second I’m kneeling on the bed above her and the next I’m on top of her, our bodies colliding, being welcomed between her spread thighs, her hands are in my hair, and our lips are crashing together.
Andfuckme.
Her mouth is warm and pliant when I slide my tongue against hers, and I can’t help the groan that vibrates my chest at the way she feels, the way she tastes. I haven’t kissed anyone but Ginger in over a decade. Feeling her lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth, her sweet whimpers against my lips, robs me of breath. It soundscliché as fuck, but kissing this woman feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve had my hands on her body for the last ten minutes, kneading her thighs, helping her stretch, and although nothing about working out her sore muscles was sexual, everything about this moment is.
I rock my hips against her as our tongues tangle, desperate for friction on my aching cock.
She lifts her hips, meeting my thrust, and lets out a whimper that is music to my ears. I’ve waited six months to hear that whimper again, and it’s flawless, just like I remember. I want all the little sounds she makes to be seared into my memory forever.
Her tongue swipes over mine, her grip in my hair tight and desperate. I lift a hand to palm one of her tits through her shirt, and she moans again, lightly licking into my mouth before she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth. She tugs on it with her teeth, and I put a bit of distance between our bodies so I can slide her free hand down to palm my cock through my jeans.
“Are we doing this?” I rasp, kissing her again.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks, chasing my lips.
I freeze.
Shit. I used the last of them with those two surfer chicks.
And just like that, the heat in my gut turns cold.
The memory—careless hands, fake moans, a night I barely remember—makes my stomach twist.God, what the hell was I doing back then?My cock deflates like it’s in agreement, retreating with slow, humiliating clarity.
