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His hands pull on my bra, freeing me. Cotton is replaced by rough calloused hands and I squirm with need as I whisper his name into the dark room.
He kisses away my concern as his body slides down the bed. A kiss on the center of my chest, my breasts, the groove of my inner arm, the center of my palm. He picks up my hand and drops it on my breast and I leave it there, touching myself while he continues south.
His mouth tickles the edge of my navel, just above my hip bone as he guides my scrubs off my legs. I’m left in my panties, slightly askew on my hips. He glides up my legs, parting them as he settles his chest between them. His comforter is crushed into a ball on the edge of the bed, and suddenly, it’s just me lying on his sheets, completely uncovered, nowhere to hide.
He rubs his hand over the center of my panties, making me arch up. He does it again and I bite down on my lip, looking up to the moonlight on his ceiling as his fingers brush my panties aside, holding them against my thigh.
His fingers part me and then his tongue. Then both work seamlessly together.
Guilt grows heavy inside me. I’m accepting a gift from him and it feels like deception to let him do this to me, to let him give and give while I take, knowing what I know, keeping secrets that could unravel us completely.
I don’t stop him though. I close my eyes and push away the niggling thoughts. It’s so easy to do. Connor knows what he’s doing. An act I’ve endured awkwardly in the past seems to come from some innate place inside him. It’s like he loves how I taste, how I feel against his tongue. The way he touches me is enough to make me feel weightless on the bed, inching toward a pleasurable end.
His fingers pump inside me and he licks me again and my breath audibly catches like it’s my final act on earth, like someone just plunged a dagger straight through my heart.
I grip his hair as a powerful crescendo overtakes me. He doesn’t stop, coaxing more and more until I’m pleading with him, crying out for him. It’s such a welcome release, but it leaves me feeling slightly unsatisfied. I want him inside me and that’s all I can think about as he lifts up again, kicks off his pants and boxers, and crawls over me, weighing me down with his body. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom, and somewhere, deep inside me, I’m smiling at his careful planning now, knowing full well it could be totally unnecessary.
He kisses my cheek as he rolls the condom on. My hands paw at him impatiently. My nails drag along his arms.
“Please.”
He looks down at me, half-possessed with longing. He brushes the hair from my face with his hand before reaching down to position himself between my legs. Our eyes remain locked as he pushes inside me the barest hint. My body responds in kind. I spread my legs and roll up against him, as if encouraging him to continue. He does, maddeningly slowly. It’s for the best, I think. My body needs a moment to adjust to his size, and it does so beautifully. After a long world-tilting moment, he’s buried inside me to the hilt and we’re molded together. We stay perfectly still, gazes never wavering.
His brow wrinkles. His mouth falls open. His hand glides up and he cradles my chin, tilting it so he can graze my bottom lip with his thumb.
There’re a million thoughts in his head. I can see them causing him trouble and I know I’m partly to blame. I know I’m troubling him, but why in this moment? Why when we’re so perfectly wrapped up together does he look so profoundly troubled?
His eyes meet mine again and he blinks away the thoughts just before he leans down and kisses me. It’s a seal.
You’re mine, his kiss tells me as he starts to roll his hips, pumping in and out of me. It feels like it’s taken us so long to get to this moment, and when his rhythm picks up and he starts to brush against the aching spot between my legs, I lose it quicker than I should. I feel almost embarrassed by my reaction until I feel him right there with me. We’re so hopeless, together.
He thrusts harder, quicker. He pushes deep and holds still for a moment before dragging back out of me. I know he’s close. His grunts are primal, seemingly out of his control, and I wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tighter, bringing his weight down onto me. We can’t get any closer and that’s just the point. Fusion is my end goal.
