“Henry, Henry, Henry…”
He lifts his head, fucks me with his fingers, meets my gaze, his chin glistening.
When my orgasm begins to subside, his mouth is on mine, tongues tangling as I taste my own juices.
It’s raw, feral, and perfect.
The perfect kiss.
The raw and primal wanting of the man I love.
Does he love me back?
Can he love me back?
I stop the thought, revel in the kiss, the longing.
He feels it too. He must.
He wanted me at the hospital. He?—
No more thoughts. Only feelings. Only this kiss, his hands on my breasts, fingers tweaking a nipple.
Time slips around its axis. We move in it and outside it. I pull him tighter. He says my name again and I say his, and the names become a rhythm, a promise, a place we’re both allowed to exist without anything else crowding in.
Our bodies are no longer our own.
And I love every bit of it.
Twenty-Eight
Henry
I’m hard again.
After that delectable blow job and an orgasm to end all orgasms, I’m fucking rock hard for Tabitha.
No surprise there. I’m rock hard whenever I’m around her.
She said a lot in her climax. I picked out words.
Henry
Fuck
I
Amazing
Love
And…
You
Did she say what I think she said?
I can’t ask.
