Page 37 of To Love the Stars too Fondly

I shut my eyes, a tear unwillingly escaping. I winced as Alex slowed and said, “Shit, are you—?”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, breath catching, unable to face her. But of course her hand came to wipe my tears away. Of course she touched my face with all the delicacy of a butterfly to a rose. I forced my eyes to open, nearly laughing at her mild panic. “I’m more than fine. Please keep going.”

She did, her hand coming to tease my nipple instead. My pleasure rose amid my emotional release; her deliberate thrusts were suddenly no longer enough. “Harder,” I said, groaning when she obeyed. “You feel so good.”

“You look so good.”

Each thrust drove me wild, the heat becoming unbearable. Never enough, and my tears fell faster, lost amid a flurry of emotions I could hardly name, save one—a word far more dangerous than love.

Safe.

I cried out at the sudden touch against my clit, only a few quick strokes needed before I unraveled completely. Orgasm sent my head spinning, each thrust forcing surmounting pleasure through my limbs. Alex’s hands guided me so smoothly, and soon I fell back down to earth, gasping each breath.

Sweat broke against my brow, clit twitching as Alex stilled her fingers. I smiled, slightly delirious in the aftermath. “You’re ridiculously good at that,” I said, turning to wipe my eyes on a blanket.

“Practice,” Alex said, but her fuckboy grin was curtailed by something softer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I said, and it wasn’t quite a lie. But I wasn’t ready to confront the depth of it, desperate for a distraction as the fog of orgasm slowly cleared. I was sensitive but not quite sore. “I think I’m warmed up enough for you to stick that dildo back in.”

Alex carefully climbed on top of me. “You don’t need a break?”

I shook my head. “I don’t care if I finish. But I want to see you try to. Please use me.”

Instead of push inside, Alex came down to my neck, kissing the soft curve. She stole my breast in her hand, romancing it with the first touch of silicone against my entrance. I twitched at the contact, anticipation brewing. God, I was sensitive, but I needed her. I was desperate to feel her power once more.

How perfect would it be for Alex to unravel in my arms? “Please, Alex….”

I gasped at the first push inside, but better than the sudden fullness was the vision of Alex biting her lip, her perfect groan.

I clung to her as she moved, savoring each moan, each grunt. Harder than the car, but oh, I wanted it all, my arousal welling once more. Alex’s face was pure ecstasy, jaw slack as she thrusted inside, and all for me; all because of me.

My nails dug into the firm flesh of her back, her thrusts teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. Her soft groans melded splendidly with mine. The couch rocked. My hands slowly lost sensation as my blood burned anew. Alex was tensing, her control slipping.

She was close, so close, but not close enough. I pulled her mouth to mine, kissing in the final throes of her passion. With our lips sealed, Alex shuddered inside me, her cries held safely in my mouth.

When she finally slowed, my whole body burned, inside and out, aching when Alex pulled out and collapsed beside me. But even amid her heaving breaths, Alex’s hand snaked to the juncture of my thighs and rubbed meticulously against my clit. The gesture jolted fresh pleasure through my blood, my involuntary cries overtaking me. I had no thoughts, only ecstasy, and when I finally broke in her arms, the whole room spun.

When she was done, I lay suspended, simply trying to catch my breath. Alex pulled me close, heaving me like a brick against her chest.

Every touch prickled chills along my sensitive skin, my naked self cradled safely in Alex’s arms. I could barely form thoughts, much less words, simply seeking to melt into her embrace.

“That was…” Alex blew out a labored breath. “…incredible.”

My smile came unbidden. I pressed my face into the crook of her neck, savoring the unexpected peace. “Yeah.”

I loved her smell, her faint sheen of sweat melding with whatever perfume she wore, an amalgamation of teakwood and something floral. My lips brushed her collarbone, leaving a few kisses in my path. She remained partially clothed, and as we settled back into our bones, I gathered my courage.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I began, “do you always keep your underwear on during sex? Or is it just so I know where not to touch you?”

She remained silent a moment, though there was nothing tense in the gesture; merely a gathering of thoughts. “To be honest, I’d shower clothed if I could.” Her nervous chuckle brought down the mood, regardless.

Something protective stirred in my chest, my own arms snaking around her torso to hold her in return. “That’s okay.”

“Is it?” A sardonic twist marred her words.

“I mean, maybe it’s not,” I replied, cautious with my choice of words, “but that’s for you to decide. Not me.”

Regret filled me when I met her gaze, startled by the unbearable tenderness in her gaze. Her mouth came near again. We kissed with our sweaty bodies in a tangled embrace, the aftermath of sex a potent drug.