“Oh god,” I moan, practically coming off the counter, eager for more. “That’s ...”
“Good?” he asks, pulling away.
“Yes.” I grab his hair, dragging him right back to where I want him.
His laugh rumbles through me, and it feels so good I could cry.
We’ve done this so many times before, but somehow each one is just as good as the last. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it, and if I do, how could I ever move on after that, whenever what we’re doing is over? I don’t think I can.
I don’t think I’d want to.
He pushes his tongue into me, then draws it up to my clit, sucking the pulsing bundle of nerves between his lips. He flicks his tongue against me quickly, and my orgasm rushes into me unexpectedly. My body shakes again and again, and he doesn’t let up for a moment. It doesn’t matter that I’m pushing at him, trying to close my legs to get a reprieve. He keeps going, and I’m damn thankful for it when the second wave hits, and I’m shaking once more.
When he finally pulls away, his face is wet with my arousal, and it might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I grab him by his shirt, jerking him to me and kissing him because I need to. He tastes like me, and if I hadn’t just come again, I might a third time.
It makes me want to drop to my knees and take my turn worshipping him, but he doesn’t let me. Without warning, he yanks me off the counter and spins me around until my ass is in the air, slamming into me before I can even register what’s happening.
“Fuck,” I cry out, my face resting against the cold countertop. “Ezra ...”
“That’s right, Sunny,” he says, his voice gravelly and dark as he bends over me, his lips kissing the shell of my ear. “Tell me who’s in you right now. Tell me who’s fucking you.”
“You, Ezra. Always you.”
“Always me,” he says through gritted teeth.
He’s pounding into me with a force I’ve never felt before, so rough that my face is pressed against the counter so hard that I’m certain it’ll bruise. And I take it. I take it because if I don’t, I might do something really reckless, like tell him how there’s a chance I might be falling for him.
“God, you feel so good,” he says.
Thrust.
I like you.
“You feel like heaven.”
Thrust.
I want more from you.
“I’ll never tire of this.”
Thrust.
I think I could be in love with you.
“Fuuuuuuck.” He draws the word out, and it’s the only warning I have before he comes with a loud grunt and a string of indiscernible words.
He wrings the last of his orgasm out, and I lie there, trying to catch my breath and trying to hold everything I’m feeling in.
I think I already am,I say to no one, and I only wish I were brave enough to say it out loud.
“Try the Cap’n Crunch with the Smacks. It’s weirdly good.”
He passes me a box, and I pour a small amount into my bowl, skeptical of this combination, though he’s never steered me wrong before. Not even with the Apple Jacks–and–Fruity Pebbles combination that was way better than it sounded.
It’s two in the morning, and we’re both starving after our workout in the kitchen despite the halibut we had earlier.
