His cock throbs as my eyes fall shut and I take him as far as I can. The weight of him against my tongue, the salty burst of his pre-cum, and the way his fingers slip beneath my messy bun and tighten around my hair all spur me on, encouraging me to breathe through my nose and take him deeper. The farther I take him, the more my mouth waters. Using my saliva as lube, I spread it over him and begin to stroke the length of him that my mouth cannot reach.
“Fuck, darlin’. Just like that,” he growls. “Tighter, baby, you’re not gonna hurt me.”
I do as he says and tighten my grip around his base, rolling my wrist as I stroke him. With his hand on the back of my head, he gently guides my mouth to move up and down his length. His thighs tense as though it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has not to thrust his hips up and force me to take him into my throat.
Having him like this and getting to be the one in control has my pussy pulsing with need for him, and I squeeze my thighs together, desperately trying to relieve the ache. My desire to see him fall apart for me has me reaching a hand between my legs and swirling two fingers over my swollen clit. His cock thickens between my lips as more pre-cum pools at his tip, and he growls as he wrenches me off of him. He reaches down to wrap his hand around his shaft just beneath his crown, squeezing tight in an effort to hold back his release.
“Get up here,” he pleads, helping me stand before shifting back on the bed to make room for me beside him.
I crawl over him and brace a hand on his abdomen as I straddle one of his thighs. I take hold of him with my other hand, stroking my fist over his throbbing length as his fingers find my clit, and a soft moan escapes me.
“Quiet, baby,” he reminds me, his fingertips moving in slow, torturous circles.
I’m already so close to the edge. I didn’t realize that touching him and getting my mouth on him would turn me on the way that it did. The intensity of my arousal is evident in the way his fingertips glide smoothly through my slit and over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex ofmy thighs, and I have to bite my bottom lip to hold back the sounds threatening to break free.
“Lo,” I whimper, rolling my hips and chasing his touch as I move my fist faster over his length. His cock thickens and pulses in my grip, telling me he’s close, and I want him to follow me over the edge. I lean forward, and he takes advantage of the position by moving his hand lower, his fingers sliding into my cunt and curling to press against the spot inside of me that has my head dropping back with a moan.
“Come for me, Tess,” he growls, and it’s all I need for stars to burst behind my eyes as we both shatter.
Chapter twenty-seven
Logan
Ifeelmoreatpeace lying in bed with Tessa’s head resting on my chest, her arm draped across my waist, than I have in a long time. I wasn’t expecting things to heat up as quickly as they did between us when I showed up here, but after two days away from her, it felt like my entire being—body, heart, and soul—was desperate to feel her again.
It would have been so fucking easy to come down her throat, but watching her squirm between my legs while trying to take all of me had me aching to get my hands on her. I thought she might ask me to leave when we finished getting cleaned up, but instead, she crawled into bed and pulled the blankets back, patting the space beside her.
“Did you still wanna talk, darlin’?” I ask, trailing my fingers gently over her upper arm.
Her arm tightens briefly across my waist, hugging me from where she lies curled against my side. “It feels weird to say now after… all that,” she says, her voice soft.
“You can tell me anything. Even if all you need from me is to be a listening ear,” I assure her. I don’t ever want her to be nervous or afraid to talk to me about something, no matter what it is. If I’ve learned anything in my life, both within personal relationships and from what I’ve experienced at work, open communication with the people you careabout is important. Even when it feels like it's too much or too awkward to express, no good ever comes from keeping the heavy things inside.
She’s quiet for a few moments. I almost think she’s not going to say whatever it is that’s been weighing on her mind, but then she pulls in a deep lungful of breath and says, “I went to the bridge today.”
The bridge.
The place where she lost her husband. The words to ask her why she went there are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t voice them. Not yet. The tension in her body tells me there’s more, but I don’t want to drag anything out of her. If there’s something she wants me to know or thinks I should, I want her to be able to tell me on her own.
“I’ve always been the type of person who keeps a journal,” she starts. “When he died, I lost the person I confided in the most, and I guess… I wanted a way to still be able to talk to him, so my journal became that outlet. Instead of writing down thoughts and memories for myself, I started writing as if I was talking to him.” She sighs, pulls in another deep breath, then continues. “The bridge gave me a place to go when I felt like I needed to talk to him. I mean… sometimes, I still do in other places. Like sitting in the car or when I’m home alone. Or I used to. The other day, I realized it’s been a while since I’ve talked to him. It’s been a while since I felt like Ineededto.”
A warm sensation fills my chest, and I move my hand to her waist, pulling her in close. I have a feeling I know where she’s going with this, but a selfish piece of me wants to hear the words, to know that being with me has filled a void in her heart. I don’t dare speak and interrupt her train of thought, but waiting for what she says next feels like standing on the edge of a precipice without being able to see what’s at the bottom.
“So… I sat down and wrote him a letter, and for the first time in six years, what I wrote wasn’t about Jake or me or how much I wish he were still here.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes, and my throat burns with the force of holding back the emotion.
Her hand slides over my bare skin and settles in the center of my chest, my heart thumping against her palm. “I wrote about you,” she murmurs, and the dam breaks.
The force building behind my eyes gives way, and I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to hold back the brimming tears, but it’s no use. A few slide down my cheek, and I move to wipe them away before she notices. “About me?” I question, surprise lacing my voice.
“I know it’s silly, but it felt good to tell him, to say it out loud. I don’t know what I believe as far as what happens to someone once they’re gone, but I’d like to believe that, somehow, he’s been watching over Jake. And if he is, I guess I just want him to know that we’re doing well, that we’re happy, and that I met someone. It’s been six years, and yet going to the bridge to read this last letter out loud, it felt like finally closing the door on my past. And… well, I guess I just wanted you to know. I’m all in.”
I told her the same thing during our date to the botanical garden, and she’s repeated them before, but this feels different. More meaningful. I didn’t have any doubts before as far as where I stood, but hearing her say she has closed the door on her past and she’s all in with me eases any hint of doubt that may have been lingering. I would never try to replace the love she has lost, but I also don’t want to feel like I’m in competition with a ghost.
I roll to my side, and with my arm around her, I pull her close, using my other hand to tip her chin up and bring her lips to mine.
The kiss is short and sweet, and her body relaxes into me as the tension she was holding in her shoulders finally melts away. The golden flecks in her green irises sparkle in the dim lighting of the room as she breaks the kiss and our gazes collide, a soft smile spreading across her face.
