She whispers something that sounds a lot likeoh godbut he can’t be sure because his release is already building and he’s barely moved at all. He tries to hold out, but it’s a perfect storm destined to overcome him.
“You feel so good,” she whispers into the shell of his ear.
It is her voice paired with the wet heat of her engulfing his entire length that is his undoing. He gives in, covering her completelybecause she is hisand muffles a groan against her neck, feeling his cock swell and jerk, spilling into her erratically.
Her legs lock around his waist, holding him in place, her lips finding his pulse and her hips rocking gently to shift him inside of her.
It takes him a second to go from utter bliss to the harsh reality of his lackluster performance. He came with a single thrust, so overwhelmed by the fact that they’re finally here, that he couldn’t keep it together. The slow stroke of her hand across the peaks and valleys of his scarred back soothes the sting, and her kiss to his temple, then his waiting lips, does the rest.
“Two thousand, one hundred and twenty-seven days. That’s how long I dreamed of you. I used to think I’d never see you again.” His voice begins to tremble. “And now here you are.”
“And now here we are,” she whispers.
He doesn’t know who’s crying. The wet nuzzle of her cheek proves at least one of them is. Could go either way, he thinks,finding her skin flushed as crimson as his must be when he pulls back to find her face. Does he look as satisfied and mindblown as she does, fanned out beneath him? There’s no chance he’s not twice as wrecked.
She lifts one leg and raises a brow at the jeans still hanging off her ankle. When they laugh, the movement highlights where he’s still buried deep, oversensitive.
His only regret now is that she didn’t come, too.
“Let’s do that again,” she says, her smile crinkling her nose in that way he loves so much.
He snorts, briefly wondering if he could just keep going and get hard all over again if they don’t stop. He might have a better chance at pleasing her, though, if she’s the only focus for a while.
“The night’s still young,” she continues, hopefully. “And I think we’re both wearing too many clothes.”
He gulps, giving her an obedient nod before peppering a kiss to her lips, her neck and then sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth, nudging his hips into hers in a quick jerk even though he’s already softening.
Why did they wait so long? Nothing came crashing down around them. This friendship he covets with every ounce of his soul hasn’t been ruined. It’s only better now because they can appreciate all of each other.
The night’s still young, she said, and he’s got plans to make sure she enjoys it as much as he is.
Chapter 33
Kara can’t stop smiling. She’s still having a hard time accepting that what she’s spent so long hoping for, while at the same time knowing full well she’d never get, actually happened, and it was better than any midnight fantasy or far away dream.
Granted, she didn’t get there, but she never expected that. Assumed he might have a hair-trigger after years of abstinence.
Her own orgasm is barely a thought on her radar when she’s still riding the high of what they’ve done. This elation after sex is new for her, and the very clear implication that she’s about to be the sole focus of what comes next, is too.
Wade’s currently giving her his undivided attention. That has her far outside her comfort zone. She’s not afraid to let him see her, though. Has been trying to get naked this whole time, after all. Now she’s finally succeeding. No, it’s not his stare she fears, but her own ability to let go.
Sex has never been abouther. Never been something she wanted or enjoyed. Her first near-experience being traumatic at such a young age, paired with her inability to trust, has kept her at arm’s length from potential partners. Being in love with her best friend for so long certainly didn’t help matters when it came to her romantic prospects.
She trusts Wade with her life. Trusting him with her body is easy, but that doesn’t mean she is confident in her ability to get out of her own head and truly let go.
After they’ve stripped away the last of their clothes, she lies back against the throw pillows. “You can look at me.You can touch me.”
She can be exactly who she is with Wade. It’s safe here. So when his stare roams slowly across her breasts, she doesn’t blush. Lets him caress a nipple between his fingertips and arches up into his touch.
“You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, countering so much self-loathing with three simple words.
Wade is a good person, she reasons. Kind and honest to a fault, with a heart bigger than anyone she’s known. If he thinks she’s beautiful, then she must be.
She doesn’t hide the scars left behind from those six years apart. He traces the stories she can’t voice along the underside of a breast and down a sloped journey just below where her waistband would be. Calloused fingers pause at a particularly cruel line along her thigh that could have easily been the end of her if it nicked an artery. Instead of clenching them closed tighter, her thighs open another inch or two, allowing him to look.
This whole trip has felt like foreplay. Hell, their whole relationship has, too. She’s primed and ready, restless at his first feather-light stroke where she’s swollen and wet.
When he’d come so quickly, she feared he might leave her wanting. She’s difficult to get there on a good day, even with her own hand. She can’t expect any partner to have the patience to reach that goal. She lives too deeply in her head, consumed by her thoughts, to relax long enough for a solid orgasm to catch her without the use of batteries.
