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“Not to see Teddy.”
“What are we watching?” Nadia asks, interrupting our side conversation.
Scarlett leans forward to grab the remote off the coffee table. Her tank top rides up, exposing a strip of skin. Just like that, I’m envisioning peeling the thin material off her body. Changing might have been a mistake.
The girls settle on a comedy. A few minutes in, I know I won’t be paying much attention to it. I finish my dinner and spread out on the couch. After hesitating, Scarlett lies down beside me. Her ass rubs directly over my crotch, and I groan into her ear. “Unless you’re willing to finish it, don’t start it, Scarlett.”
“Who said I’m not willing to finish it?” she whispers back.
I slip a few fingers under the hem of her tank top, tracing circles on her smooth skin. Nadia, or maybe Sophie, laugh at something happening on the screen. I don’t look over to check. “I don’t want to share you. I’m the only one who fucks you, Red.”
Her breath hitches. I hear it, and I feel it. The quick rise of her rib cage.
“Say it.”
She turns her head, so it’s tucked under my chin. “You’re the only one who fucks me,” she whispers.
I tease the underside of her breast, and then slip my hand back down to rest on her stomach. “Watch the movie.”
She huffs, annoyed. I smile, sliding my hand to curl around her hip and staring at the screen without registering a single pixel.
The next thing I know, Scarlett is shaking me awake. I blink, scrub my hands across my face, and yawn. “Shit. I fell asleep?”
She nods. “Somewhere between the shoot out and a sex scene, so you must have been exhausted.”
“I thought the movie was about a bachelorette trip?”
“Thing escalated, I guess. I wasn’t paying very close attention.”
“No?” I ask, the picture of innocence.
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “I put Teddy in his crate. Sophie and Nadia left. I’m heading up to bed.” But she doesn’t move.
I do.
I tug her closer, flipping our positions so she’s caged beneath me. Electricity crackles between us. She doesn’t fight me. She spreads and sprawls, raising her arms and tugging her hair out of its bun. Her knees part, so my hardening cock is pressed directly against her soft center. I roll my hips and she moans.
“You want my cock, Red?”
In response, she moans again. Louder. I sit up, pulling my shirt off and tugging down my sweatpants so my dick juts out. Scarlett bites her bottom lip, laser-focused on my growing erection. She’s not wearing a bra. I can see the hard points of her nipples as her body responds.
The leggings she’s wearing are skin-tight. It takes me three jerks to get them down and off. Her soaked underwear comes off next. I move closer, about to push inside, when I realize, “Condoms are upstairs.”
This has always been a tense subject between us. Now that we’re not only having sex, but having it as often as possible, it’s become an increasingly pertinent issue. It’s an ongoing test of trust in each other. Saying you trust someone is one thing. Backing it up with action is another. Especially when transmitting a disease or pregnancy are potential consequences.
“I trust you.” She repeats the same thing she told me four nights ago, outside Proof. And it prompts the same swell of a sensation that feels a lot like love.
I kiss her as she works her way down and around my cock. I’veneverhad sex without wearing a condom before. Nothing is dulled. I groan at the sensation of her tight, wet heat contracting around me without any barrier. “Holy shit.”
“It feels different?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, picking up the pace once we’ve both adjusted. “Feels good. You feel so fucking good.”
“It feels different with you,” Scarlett murmurs. I know she’s not talking about the lack of latex between us.
She winds her long legs around my waist, opening up to me even more. We both moan as I slide deeper, hitting a new spot. My breathing quickens as I start to feel the familiar tingle in my balls. And then I’m coming, harder and longer than I ever have. White spots dot my vision, bringing new meaning to blinding pleasure.
Slowly, reality trickles back into the living room. But I don’t move away from her. Scarlett’s hand threads through my hair, running through the short strands over and over again. I press my lips against the curve of her neck, right where it meets her shoulder. Inhaling her scent and breathing against her skin.
