I chuckle, “We’ve never just been friends. May have taken us twenty years to figure that out, but we’ve always been more.”
Holding my weight on my elbows, I look down at her.
“You can change that now,” she licks her bottom lip, “Kiss me and pretend we’re back in that trailer.”
“Whatever you want,” I say before I kiss her again, her thighs opening so our bodies can be closer. My cock hardens, hips grinding forward, and I pull away.
“But we may need to make it short,” I wince, “Or I’m going to do more than just kiss you.”
“Isn’t that the point?” She cocks her head to the side and reaches for my belt.
“Sid,” I warn.
“You know we’ve had sex pretty much everywhere but in a bed. This kind of counts as a bed, and I hear make up sex is some of the best sex.”
“Oh, yeah?” I let her pop the button on my pants and then I reach for my shirt, yanking it off and throw it onto the ground.
“Mm,” Her nails bump over the ridges of my abdominal muscles, and my body trembles, tightening the closer she gets to the waistband of my pants. “Want to show me if that’s true?”
She dips her hand into my pants and cups my hard cock, jerking it over the material of my boxers. A groan rumbles from my throat at the contact, pleasure coursing down my spine.
“Fuck, Sid,” I groan.
Her hand tightens once and then lets go so she can strip out of her top and bra. Her pants come off next, and she lies back onto the pillows, brown eyes swirling. “Show me how sorry you are.”
Chapter Thirty
Noah doesn’t falter. He shoves at his pants and boxers until they meet his knees, and then he lines himself up and thrusts, filling me with one hard roll of his hips.
“I’m sorry,” he pulls out and thrusts back in. “So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Sorry.”
My moan is shamelessly loud, fingers clawing at the soft blankets beneath me.
“Tell me you forgive me, baby,” he draws out and holds himself so only a little bit of his cock is still inside.
“Noah, please,” I beg.
He slidesin but still holds himself back, his chin dipping so he can see where he disappears inside of me. “So fucking pretty.” He growls, his thrusts short and slow. It’s torture, but bliss at the same time.
He grasps me behind my knee and opens me up further; the position allowing him to go deeper on his next thrust. Pleasure has my whole body tightening, head thrown back as I whimper beneath him.
“More,” I groan.
“Touch that pretty pussy, Sidney,” he orders. “Play with yourself.”
I don’t need to be asked twice; I dip my hand between my legs and pinch my clit between my fingers while he continues to fuck me. I can feel how damn wet I am, the sounds we make obscene and damn right erotic. My muscles begin to tighten as I roll my clit, working myself in time with his thrusts.
“Can you feel how sorry I am?” He groans, eyes squeezing closed as his own pleasure leaves him trembling.
“Yes,” I hiss, my climax coming on quickly. “Don’t stop.”
He works me through it, keeping his thrusts steady, my pussy clenching around him as my orgasm takes control of me. My hand falls away, but he doesn’t stop, he keeps thrusting, prolonging my climax until my fingers ache with how hard I’m clinging to the blankets.
Dropping down, he captures my mouth, his tongue stroking against mine while he searches for his own pleasure, the coarse hair around the base of his cock rubbing against my overly sensitive clit.
“You feel so fucking good,” he moans against my mouth, “You feel like mine.”
“I am yours.” The words are said on a breath, but the conviction is there.
