Once freed, she flopped onto her back.
“You are starfishing,” he said fondly.
“I appear to be starfishing, but I am in my right mind. Starfishing requires the temporary departure of one’s senses. To reduce the risk of this encounter resulting in a child neither of us wants, you must pull out before you spend. That is more likely to be successful if you are on top. You shall be able to move away from me unimpeded.”
You shall be able to move away from me unimpeded.
Effie didn’t care for that sentence.
He shook his head. He was overthinking this. He wasn’t writing a poem here.
He was making a painting.
He closed his eyes and pictured it. Him moving over Julianna, her eyes closed in ecstasy. He could angle himself the way he had the first night, when she said the pressure was just right. Except this time, he would be inside her.
He opened his eyes. He might not survive the encounter, but he was ready.
He kissed her again. And again and again, pausing only long enough to inform her, “We are going to kiss for ages.” She smiled, and he smiled against her smile—like Leander from the Keats poem? No, of course not. No one was drowning here.
And so they kissed for ages. It would be the last time they had ages to spare.
She kept attempting to move things along, but Effie was coming to understand the pleasure to be had in delayed gratification. It was difficult, but the best things often were. Eventually, he moved down her body, kissing her neck, stroking her breasts, flicking her nipples the way he’d learned she liked. He allowed her to stroke his body all over, too, but when her hands found his prick, he swatted them away.
“I said ‘ages,’” he teased.
“It’sbeenages.” She tried to pout, but she was laughing, and then he was laughing.
“Edward,” she said after their laughter died, and his formal Christian name on her lips shocked him to his core. “Please.”
A bolt of lust shot down his spine, and suddenly hedidn’thave ages.
There is only now.
“You will have to guide me,” he said. He had meant it in a general sense, but she grabbed his prick, lined herself up with it, wrapped her legs around his waist, and, using his body for leverage, thrust upward.
And there they were. Together. Ages would not be long enough.
“You might like to move,” she whispered, and he realized he had been frozen.
Part of him wanted to stay frozen. Stay like this forever, closer to Julianna than he had ever been or would ever be to anyone else. But once she planted the seed of the idea, this notion of moving inside her, his body began undulating. He remembered the rocking she had enjoyed before, and he tried to replicate that, but some relentless need inside him was overriding his conscious will and he could not help but begin thrusting.
She didn’t seem to mind. She hung on to him with both arms and both legs and met his every thrust.
“Effie,” she said, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was distressed.
“Jules,” he answered.
They stared at each other. One of her hands had slid around to the front of her body and was rubbing the magical nub of flesh. He moved his own hand to join hers, adding his first two fingers next to the two she was using.
She moaned again, and for a moment, her eyes slipped closed. But they opened just as quickly, opened wide, as if in disbelief, and she went perfectly still.
Nothing had ever flattered him more, or made him feel more powerful. He could have a thousand poems published, or he could have this, and he would choose this every time.
He pressed down a little harder with his fingers and, knowing he was close to his own precipice, gave a great thrust. The quaking began. It started with her. He felt her shivering where their bodies touched, and soon her shivering became his became theirs.
There was only now, and there was only them.
* * *
