I laugh. “Yeah, okay. Not exactly an expert.”
“No. But we’ll figure it out as we go along. That’s what I’ve been doing since before she was born, and now I have help.”
This time, I can actually breathe. “It’s my honor to help.”
She kisses me. A simple thing. When she pulls back, I don’t know who moves first. One moment, there are inches between us, and the next, there are none. Her hands are in my hair, and mine are flat against her back, pulling her in. This kiss has nothing slow about it.
She makes a sound against my mouth that I feel everywhere, and we’re moving—her toward the wall or me walking her there, I genuinely can’t say—and when her back meets the bookshelf, something falls off the second shelf, and neither of us looks.
“Dario,” she says against my mouth.
“Yeah.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her hair has come loose. Her mouth is red. “Office floor,” she says, and pulls me back down by the collar.
Thank fuck I put a thick rug down after I cleaned up.
Her hands are certain. No hesitation in them, no negotiating with herself in real time. Just her hands and my shirt and therug coming up to meet us, and the very clear sense that this is something she wants without any of the complicated machinery she usually has running underneath what she does.
I’m aware, somewhere at the back of my mind, that we are two adults on our office floor at six in the morning after the longest night of my life, and this is objectively an absurd place to be. I find I don’t care at all.
There’s nothing available in my brain. Nothing is being managed or held at a careful distance. No part of me is somewhere else.
I’m here with the woman I’m going to marry beneath me.
Her warm hands tear at my clothes, and I shove her nightgown up and out of my way. When I touch her, her entire body arches beneath me. It’s like all the fear, the tension, and the pain is coiled up inside of her, and it’s screaming to be released.
I know the feeling.
I press my palm against her there, finding nothing but slick heat when I make her moan. “Fuck, baby?—”
“Now. I need you now,” she gasps.
Forgot I didn’t put on boxers before I left. Convenient.
I kiss her mouth as I thrust inside, and in that moment, I’m complete. Don’t even need to come. Just need to connect. Need to feast on her body with every part of me.
The way the early morning light casts on her face is breathtaking. She’s stunning—as in I am stunned between every blink. Each time I close my eyes, I picture her face, and when I open them again, she’s prettier. Closer to her orgasm, lips parted, eyes shining.
I slow down and brush my fingers on her cheek. “I love you, Lena. I didn’t know I could do that.”
She half smiles and pulls me down for another kiss. “I’m happy to surprise you.”
I kiss her again, and this time I don’t let up. Our bodies take over, one collision after another. I hoist her thigh up, splitting her soft body wide open, and dive deeper, twisting for more depth. More pleasure. More of her.
Her body shudders, going tight. She’s near the point of?—
“Oh, fuck!” she cries out. Her pussy grips me rhythmically, and I tumble through that one with her. She murmurs my name like a prayer, and only then do I realize I was doing the same with hers.
Afterward, I lie on the floor with her head on my chest, and I feel the weight of everything settle into something new.
Lena shifts against my chest. Her breathing is evening out. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“Good.” Nothing else.
I don’t know if it means something specific or everything in general. Both, probably.
