Page 92 of For The Weekend
“Hi, Rome,” she says, voice all smoke and gravel and choking me.
Or maybe that’s my heart in my throat.
I’m not sure. I can’t tell.
But I am sure that the day I first saw her, laughing in Wawa at Mazie, I was attracted to her. Then when I spotted her out back of her bakery, covered in flour and laughing at herself, I fell in love. I loved her then without knowing.
I love her even more now.
It overwhelms me. Like I can’t breathe without her. She’s everywhere. The air in my lungs, the never-ending loop in my head, the steady beat in my heart.
I love her smile and energy, her compassion and humor. I love the way she makes me feel and how she takes care of Mazie. I love the way she tells me everything that crosses her mind and texts like she’s having a conversation in person. I love her insecurities and all of her confidence. I love every piece of her. Every bit of sunshine and every shadow.
And I can’t do anything besides crowd her against the door. My mouth finds hers in a kiss that’s equal parts hunger and reverence. It’s been a week since I’ve tasted her, though it may as well have been a year.
She tangles her fingers in my hair, and I lift her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. We’re a jumble of limbs and need. It’s frantic and desperate, a clash of desire that neither of us can contain.
“Missed you,” she breathes against my lips, and I growl in agreement, roaming my hands over her body, reacquainting myself with every dip and curve.
“Need you,” I admit, and it’s more than physical. It’s a craving that goes deeper than skin, an ache only she can soothe.I carry her past the kitchen, but my eye catches on a bottle, and I can’t help the amused sound that escapes the back of my throat.
Eloise lifts her head, eyes dazed, lips swollen. “Hm?”
“The olive oil,” I say with a jut of my chin toward it. She follows my line of sight and inhales sharply, a wild grin taking over her face.
The smile when she’s really excited about something. “You wanna?”
I set her on the counter to pull her sweater over her head and lean down to draw my tongue over the soft flesh barely contained by her bra. “Wanna what?”
“Try olive oil?”
I step back and tug my own shirt over my head, still not comprehending the suggestion until she unscrews the cap and pours a drop on her index and middle fingers before rubbing her thumb over it and smearing it over her collarbone. She drags her fingers down the dark valley between her tits, and I swallow thickly, imagining oiling her up all over.
I nod, take the bottle from her hand, and throw my woman over my shoulder. She shrieks in laughter, smacking my ass a few times. As soon as I toss her on the bed, I kick off my boots and strip off my jeans and underwear. “Naked,” I tell Eloise. “Get naked now unless you want your clothes ripped in half.”
She doesn’t hesitate, yanking off her black leggings and flinging her thong at me. Before she can remove her bra, I pounce on her, unclasping it myself. I should be moving slower, taking my time, worshipping her properly, but I’m too keyed up from being away from her for so long. I need to inhale her. Drink her in. Swallow her down.
Eloise is my new addiction, and that is the one thought that has me taking a pause.
A breath.
So I don’t completely lose myself and ruin my fresh start before it’s barely started.
Kneeling between her open legs, I reach for the bottle of olive oil and spill some into my palm, rubbing my hands together before spreading it over her thighs and stomach. Eloise is already soft and pliant, but with the way she trembles under my touch, I can tell she wants more.
I dribble a line across her chest from nipple to nipple and rub it in, flicking my thumbs over the stiff pink points, admiring the sheen on her skin, the visible tracks of my fingers across her breasts and belly. When I drag my hand between her legs, she shudders, and I watch as she flushes pink all over as I press my fingers into her already wet pussy, stretching it, working her sensitive flesh until she’s coming on my hand.
She mewls and closes her eyes, shifting under me, and I place my right hand around her throat in a hold that isn’t at all tight, but does always seem to settle her. She likes my palm around her, my fingertips against her beating pulse. She knows I’d never hurt her, and when our eyes meet, she curls her fingers around my forearm, keeping me in place. Then she hits me right in the solar plexus when she says, “You make me feel safe. Like nothing can touch me. Nothing can hurt me.”
I hope so. Because I protect what’s mine, and as long as she’ll have me, I will always keep her safe.
Bending, I lick into her mouth as if I could draw her words into my mouth, and I roll us so we’re on our sides, her back to my front and wrap my left arm around her neck to keep her close, smoothing my right hand down the length of her. I pull her top leg up and back over my thigh, meeting her lips when she turns her face to mine for a kiss, and I toy with her clit for a few moments until she’s rolling her hips too much.
Too much for me to handle without being inside her.
With so much oil between us, it takesalmost no effort to slowly thrust inside her, and she cries out. I stop, waiting until I know she’s all right, until she reaches for me, wanting another kiss, until she begins to rock back and forth.
Then I let her go, let her use me how she needs, taking my cock inside her with every shift forward and back. I palm her hips, her ass, her breasts, kiss her shoulder and lick along the shell of her ear. I strum her clit, bringing her to the brink again, her inner walls pulsing around my shaft, taking me farther inside her. Seated to the hilt, I’m sure she’ll be sore tomorrow, but when I check in with her, she wants me to keep going, so I do. I roll her to her back and hold myself above her, sliding inside her easily, taking over when she’s too wild with pleasure.
