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“Are you sure you really want to know?” My heart thunders in my chest. “Because if I tell you, I think you’re going to-”
“How long?”
My throat restricts. “Five years. I stayed on the pill because...I just did.”
He pulls back to study me. “No one for five years?”
I cut my gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this.” I repeat what I’ve already said. “That’s my past and you’re now.”
His hand slides to my face and he studies me, and seconds feel like hours. I fear he’s going to think I can’t handle this no strings relationship. “That’s right, baby,” he finally whispers. “I’m now.” He kisses me, his tongue sliding against mine, stroking me into a softer, needier place, where thinking thankfully isn’t an option.
His hands are low on my back and his touch on my body affect me in a way I have never experienced. Every inch of my skin, every nerve ending, is tingling and alive.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls near my ear, his breath warm on my neck, before his lips brush the sensitive area.
My body clenches with the words. As impossible as it seems considering how hot this man has made me several times over, I have never been as aroused as I am in this moment. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
He shifts my weight, and presses into me. I gasp at the sensation of him entering me, stretching me, pressing all the way to the deepest depths of me in ways beyond the physical. Chris affects me deeply, intensely, completely.
“Damn, you feel good, baby.” His voice is rough, intoxicatingly aroused. Again I think, because of me, this idea is immensely pleasing.
One of his hands glides lower on my back, a possessiveness to his touch that brands me, as he presses me down against him. I arch into the movement, the stroke of his c**k inside me a sultry play on my nerve endings.
He nips my bottom lip and licks the same spot. “You taste like honey and sunshine,” he murmurs, and then surprises me in such an intense moment by smiling and adding, “And pizza.”
I laugh and lick his bottom lip. “You taste like-”
“You,” he finishes for me, and my stomach clenches in reaction as he softens his voice, “I taste like you, Sara.”
The air seems to thicken around us, and the connection I’ve felt with Chris from the moment we met shifts and evolves into a living, breathing thing. It’s controlling us now. It’s claiming us. We are no longer ourselves, no longer the damaged, thinking creatures who can hold back and control what we say and do. We are simply two people who have lost the world around us, and found this powerful, passionate moment.
Our mouths come together in unison, our tongues tangling in a wicked, emotionally charged kiss that is like nothing we’ve shared until now. I feel this kiss in every part of my body and beyond, and there is an unfamiliar emotion in my chest; on some level I know this is dangerous with this man. Falling for him is a mistake I don’t intend to make and I don’t want to make, but I can’t fight the feelings overwhelming me. I can’t escape the way he overwhelms me with sensations though I have no real perception of really trying.
We are moving together, a sultry dance of passion, touching each other with hot, needy caresses and I want to crawl under this man’s skin. There is a desperateness growing inside me, in the way I touch him, the way I kiss him. The way I press against him. Sensations build within my sex, spread through my nerve endings. I crave the place they are taking me with bittersweet desire as I yearn to savor this experience, not end it.
Release comes over me too soon, and without warning, and I cling to Chris, burying my face in his neck. He moans as my body clamps down on his shaft and pushes me hard against his thrust. His arms are wrapped around me, holding me tightly when he shakes with his release.
When we both relaxed, wine and pleasure have collided with body-numbing effects, so much so that I am a wet noodle as Chris frets over cleaning us up and then lays down on the couch and takes me with him. His heart beats beneath my ear and with the fireplace throwing warmth over us, my lashes grow heavier by the second.
Chapter Eighteen
Tonight I felt like I’d finally found him again. He was different. We were different. It was just he and I, alone in his playroom. I was so relieved, so tired of him sharing me. It hurts when he shares me, when he makes me feel I am not enough for him. He says that isn’t the case. He says I fulfill his every fantasy. That I am a perfect sub.
I will remember tonight forever. Only my hands were bound and I stood in the middle of the room. He was na**d and commanding, and it is in those moments that I would do anything to please that man. I was wet and aching with the burn for him to touch me and finally, finally, his fingers brushed my cheeks, then trailed down my neck, over my breast and nipple. I shivered from the caress, and goosebumps had lifted on my skin. That’s how much he commands my body.
His fingers returned to my face, trailing over my lips. “Suck,” he ordered and I drew his fingers into my mouth, ran my tongue around him. His eyes heated and…
My eyes snap open, a vague sense of awareness washing over me, and I blink into a beam of sunshine. Dreaming. I think…I’ve been dreaming about one of the journal entries again. I swallow against the dryness in my throat and the wet ache between my thighs. Realization comes to me in a cold blast of awareness. Oh God. I’m not home, I’m at Chris’s, and I’ve managed to have an erotic dream which may or may not have included him as a witness to me talking or moaning or…I sit up quickly.
