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Without pretenses.
Without fucking clothes, even.
I pull my top over my head and do away with my bra. My hands go back to Ethan's hair. My hips buck as his tongue gets more aggressive.
Almost.
Almost.
There.
With the next flick of his tongue, all the tension in my core unfurls in a hell of an orgasm.
"Fuck, Ethan." I tug at his hair.
I look up at Ethan's mirror and watch his movements. He's still got his head between my legs. He's still licking and sucking on me.
God, he's good at this.
I watch him until I can't take it anymore. I have to close my eyes as I go over the edge again. My orgasm is intense enough to hurt but it's in a fucking amazing way.
"Ethan." I tug at his t-shirt. "You're still dressed."
He pulls his t-shirt over his head as he climbs on top of me. I drag my hand down his torso, taking my time to explore all the nooks and crannies of his body.
I wanted this with him that day twenty-two months ago. But I'm not sure I was ready for it. I wasn't ready to let go of my grief. I wasn't ready to meet Ethan halfway.
Now, I am.
Now, we're both grown up enough to do this right.
Ethan unzips his jeans and kicks them off. He looks down at me and runs his fingers through my hair. His blue eyes are brimming with affection.
He does away with his boxers.
I wrestle him for control, flipping him over onto his back. My hands go to his shoulders. I use the leverage to bring my body onto his.
"Watch yourself," I say. "And me."
I watch our bodies join.
God, he feels so good inside me.
Like that's where both of us belong.
My thoughts drift away until all I feel is the pleasure building inside me and all the affection in the world pouring from me to him, from him to me.
When we come together, it's much more than sex.
It's fucking everything.
We lay together on Ethan's bed for a long time. I can feel his heart beating against my chest. I can feel his breath on my neck.
Right now, there are no walls between us. I really do feel like I have the key to his heart.
He smiles as I look up at him.
He brushes my hair from my eyes. "I love your haircut." He runs his fingers over the edges of my blunt cut. "It suits you."
