“What if I don’t?”
“Then we make another memory.”
His eye shone.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
The words moved between kisses.
Not ceremonial.
Necessary.
As natural as breath.
Noah’s muscles began tightening beneath my hand.
I knew the signs.
His breaths shortened. His hips started following every stroke. The hand around me lost some of its rhythm as sensation overtook concentration.
“I’m close,” he whispered.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“You with me.”
I shifted closer.
“May I change how I’m touching us?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me if the pressure is wrong.”
“I will.”
I brought our bodies together and wrapped one hand around both of us.
Noah’s fingers closed over mine.
The first shared stroke sent a shudder through him.
His mouth fell open.
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
I moved again.
Our cocks slid together through our joined hands, slick with heat, the friction sending pleasure through both of us at once.
