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“I don’t…I don’t know…”
He laid all his weight atop her and angled his hips so he could drive into her just right. “I do. Come again. Come again and I’ll give you mine.”
His hips flew. His hands clutched. His breath sawed in and out of him as he took what was his. What he felt like had always been meant to be his. Like Shayna had been made for him. And he’d been made for her.
“Fuck, Shayna, it’s too good, baby,” he said, his orgasm careening through him. And then he was shouting and coming and holding onto her so tight.
“Don’t stop,” she cried. “I’m so close.”
Billy gave her what she asked for, and then she did the same, coming on his cock until he was gritting his teeth from the fucking torturous pleasure of it.
He collapsed on top of her, but she wasn’t complaining. “Your arm okay, baby?” he asked.
“I have an arm?” she said, amusement plain in her breathy tone. “Oh, yeah. It’s mighty fine.”
Billy smacked the luscious curve of her ass. “Oh, yes it is.”
Shayna grinned and peered back at him, one eyebrow arched. “Hmm, that felt good, too.”
His head thunked against her shoulder. “You kill me dead, Shayna. Absofuckinglutely dead.” She laughed and he smacked that ass again, earning himself a squirm and a moan. “And I love it.”
Which was how they ended up having sex again. And again. Like it was the air they needed to breathe.
And given how long they’d both denied themselves meaningful relationships with other people, maybe it was that fundamental, that essential, to them both.
“I’m going to throw up,” Billy said. Because that was what happened when you faced your fears.
And, in this case, it was his fear that Ryan Curtis was not going to approve of them. But Billy had to face that fear head-on, because he was willing to fight for Shayna. He’d made the mistake of not doing so once, but never again.
Shayna chuckled as she fiddled with her laptop and set it up in front of them on the coffee table. “That would be gross so please don’t.”
Billy tackled her to the couch, and her laughter lit him up inside. He let himself go lax on top of her. “I feel a lot better now.”
Still laughing, she shoved out from underneath of him, and he let her go so that she didn’t hurt her arm. “If you’re nervous about what Ryan is going to say, him seeing you laying on top of me isn’t going to help.”
“Fuck, that’s true,” he said, sitting upright. He grabbed his crotch. “Okay, I found my balls again, let’s do this.”
Shay gave him a look. “Your balls are just fine, Billy. I should know since I was licking them less than an hour ago.”
“Christ, baby,” he said.
And of course that was the very moment that the Skype call came through.
Shayna answered, and then Ryan’s face filled the screen. It was about ten at night there, and Ryan looked fucking beat. Beard on his face. Dark circles under his eyes. Sunburn on his cheeks. In other words, totally par for the course of being deployed in Iraq. “Hi, Ry!” she said.
“Oh, look, it’s a twofer!” he said, making her laugh.
“Hey, man, how’s it hanging?” Billy asked.
“High and to the right, just like always.” Ryan grinned.
“Oh my God, that’s TMI, knobhead!” Shayna said.
Suddenly, her brother leaned closer to his screen, his eyes narrowing. “Is our connection shitty or…are the two of you all beat up?”
Shayna took over answering, and Ryan’s face was almost comical as she detailed the explosion and the fire and how her pictures had appeared on front pages of the Gazette and every other localish paper, not to mention online everywhere. There were even pictures circulating of Shayna herself, a couple of which were really fucking hard to look at, because she’d gotten so damn close to the flames. But there were others that made him even prouder, if that were possible, of her holding a baby, handing out water bottles, and directing firemen to an apartment where she’d seen survivors.
Shayna was a hero. She was certainly his.
