"Then don't," I whispered, voice husky with passion and emotion. My nails dug into his back. "Stay here with me."
He felt perfect inside of me. It felt like he was touching parts inside that had never been reached. His stroke increased and I met him—stroke for stroke. Our voices rising higher until with one cry out in unison, we both exploded against one another. Panting. Sweaty and clinging to each other.
Our hearts raced against one another; our chins pressed into each other's neck as we slowly came down. Slowly, he withdrew his head from my shoulder to look into my eyes. We didn't say anything for a moment, but our eyes said everything.
"You okay, beautiful?" he spoke first, his thumb smoothing over my eyebrows softly.
I nodded, my hands rubbing slowly up and down his back. "Better than that. Are you?"
"Amazing," he smiled. "I'm sorry about the condom. I just caught up. You felt so good." He exhaled slowly. "I hope you're not mad at me."
I shook my head. "Don’t apologize. I wanted to. Like I told you, I'm clean. I swear."
Remy kissed me softly. "I believe you. Don’t worry about that, baby."
Him saying that meant more than he would ever know.
Kissing my forehead, he let out a final satisfied exhale. "Let's go shower than let me feed you something good."
I laughed. "It's kind of late to be eating, handsome."
"Never too late for a meal. Plus, it's my form of aftercare. I aim to feed all the senses. Mind, body, and soul."
He slid out of me, stood and gently pulled me up on wobbly legs with a chuckle.
"Don't laugh," I smirked leaning against him for support.
Scooping me into his arms he kissed me. "You never gon' fall with me beautiful 'cause whenever you can't stand I'ma carry you. Remember that."
My heart fluttered as he carried me to the bathroom. We showered together, put on pj's, and then headed to his kitchen. I sat on the island barstool as I watched him, shirtless in nothing but pajama pants as he prepared a quick meal of shrimp and veggies in a butter-lemon sauce that would make even cardboard taste good.
Afterwards, we went back to his room where we had round two and three until the sun was rising above the horizon. Even still then, we didn't sleep. Just sat up, my head on his chest, his hand on my back as we talked about whatever came to mind.
He was drawing lazy circles on my back as I rested my head on my forearms tracing his lips gently with my fingers as we talked. There was break in the conversation where we just looked into each other's eyes. The feeling was so intense, it felt like my insides were quivering.
"I want you to be mine, Gianna," he said.
"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" I teased with a smile.
But he wasn’t laughing. His tone was serious. He shook his head twice. "No. I'm asking you to be myeverything."
My breath stopped. The teasing smile on my lips slowly faded as I searched his face and saw nothing but certainty. "Remy..." I whispered.
His hand moved from my back to my cheek, thumb brushing slowly along my jaw.
"I know it's fast."
It was. Crazy fast. But it didn't feel crazy laying wrapped up in him. Not after the way he'd looked at me all night like I was something worth treasuring. Not after hours of talking until sunrise painted gold across his skin.
"I know we just started this," he continued quietly. "But I don't wanna play games with you." His eyes held mine. "I don'twanna pretend I'm casually dating you when every part of me already knows what I want."
My heart beat harder.
His fingers slipped into my hair, massaging my scalp softly as he spoke. "I want your good and bad days, Gianna. I want your dreams. Your fears. The parts of you that make you laugh and the parts of you that make you cry." His eyes softened. "I wanna know what makes you wake up in the middle of the night, and what I can do to make you rest easier."
A tear slipped free.
"I wanna know what hurt you," he said gently.
