Page 91 of The Problem with Perfect

She licks her lips, her expression growing cautious. “What made you decide to come by? What made you realize…” Bellamy trails off.

“What made me realize I’m in love with you?”

She nods.

I bring one hand up and stroke a finger along the side of her face then gently comb my fingers through her hair.

“I realized I was in love with you that night on Abby’s dock,” I say honestly, “but I started falling way before that.”

Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

I nod. “I just wasn’t ready to admit it. Thank you for not giving up on me when I tried to push you away.”

Bellamy snuggles closer, her face in my chest. “Never.”

My arms wrap around her, holding her as close as I can. I truly believe her when she says that, when she says she’ll never give up on me.

Because Bellamy has proven time and time again that she means exactly what she says.

She tilts her head back and looks up at me, our eyes searching each other for a long moment before our lips meet again in the most passionate, beautiful kiss I’ve ever experienced. Even though I told her it doesn’t exist, I have to admit…

It really is perfect.

chaptertwenty-five

Bellamy

We lie in my bed for a while, kissing, our hands exploring like we’re mapping each other in a new way we haven’t done before. It’s wild to me that we’ve gotten to this point, and I can’t help wanting to touch every inch of his body, my hands roving over each thick muscle and every tender spot. I feel him beginning to grow hard again, the length of him pressed against my thigh as our tongues stroke and lick, and an unfamiliar desperation begins to stir inside me.

After I was with Connor, there was a kind of relief that it was over. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and at no point did I feel a craving to crawl back into bed and do it again.

With Rusty, I don’t ever want it to end. I can feel my need for him returning anew, and before I know it, I’m pushing him onto his back and crawling over his hips, straddling him. His eyes rove over my body, his hands moving to hold my breasts and pinch at my nipples. Both of us moan as I rest against his dick, as I slide my core, still wet, along his length.

“I wish it had only been you,” I tell him, overcome with emotion.

But Rusty’s hands come to my face, his palms on my cheeks, his thumb stroking gently as he shakes his head.

“It sounds romantic,” he says as one hand tucks some of my hair behind my ear, “but we might never have found each other if we hadn’t first been lost.”

My lips tilt up, and I begin moving my hips again.

“You’re getting awfully poetic,” I tell him, my tone teasing, my moment of regret fading away.

His hands come back down, sliding leisurely along my skin before coming to a stop on my hips. “I can’t help it…I’ve found quite an incredible muse.”

I grin, rising up onto my knees and bending forward, pressing my lips against his. Shifting my hips, I notch him right at my core then slide down his length in one go, crying out at the way he stretches me, at how deeply inside of me he reaches.

I sit there for a moment, allowing myself to breathe and expand to accommodate him before rising up and sliding back down again. My jaw drops open, and I can’t help the desperate sound that falls from my lips.

“There is nothing as incredible as being inside you,” he tells me before pulling my mouth back to his.

He grips my hip tighter, his other hand moving to wrap around the back of my neck, and then he begins to thrust in earnest. I am overcome with pleasure, the feeling of his dick slamming into me over and over again unlike anything.

It takes longer this time, our bodies somewhat spent from our first orgasms, but Rusty is dedicated. He breaks out int a sweat as he continues to press up into me, until eventually he shifts our position, moving us so I’m bent over the bed and he’s thrusting into me from behind.

My fingernails dig into my comforter, and I lift one knee up onto the mattress, opening myself to him further. When I turn my head to the side, I catch sight of us in the mirror hanging on my closet, and I’m enraptured by what we look like.

Rusty’s tall, muscular body fucking me, his hands on my hips, his eyes on my ass. Me, my mouth open, a look of desperation on my face as I lie bent over my bed, my breasts swinging every time Rusty’s hips meet mine. It’s an erotic image, and I sear it into my mind as heat begins to build in my core.

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