Page 104 of Second Chance

An hour later, I’m exiting the bathroom, and he corners me against the wall again. With a sharp kiss and a little maneuvering, he slips into me again. He makes love to me against the wall until I can hardly stand. It’s not a truck in the dark woods but a bright room in a hotel. He’s slow but rhythmic, and the pace makes my legs quiver.

“I can’t take it,” I whimper.

“You can. You’ll take all of me. All night,” he commands, sliding back, threatening to leave my body, and then slamming upward, burying himself to the hilt. He guides me, moving my hips in ways to take him deeper.

“Just dance with me,” he mutters as he kisses a path along my clavicle from shoulder to shoulder. Dancing is what we do. He hums a tone and his hands lift mine above my head. His hips set a new pace, and I discover we actually are dancing, joined as one. I’ve never felt anything like this before. My mind wants to drift, making a comparison I shouldn’t make, but true to Denton, he catches me.

“See me,” he murmurs against my neck.

“Only you,” I reply before opening my mouth and seeking his. My fingers cover his scruffy jaw, and I plunge my tongue into his mouth. The newly familiar feeling tickles my belly.

“Almost there,” he groans as he pulls back, lowering his eyes to watch himself enter me. I sneak a peek as well, and the visual undoes me. Waves of bliss shatter through me. I clutch at his neck, keeping myself in place against him. “Good girl, Spice.”

He jets off inside me again, and I squeeze at his ass with one ankle. My leg wraps over his hip, holding him inside me, relishing the pulse and the warmth of him. Keeping himself inside me, he lifts my other thigh and walks us backward half a step until he sits on the bed. I straddle him, and we fall back on the bed.

“I’m spent,” I softly groan, spreading kisses over his cheeks and his forehead, working down to his nose.

“We’ll sleep a bit before round three.” I chuckle as he softens inside me because I think he’s kidding. He proves me wrong in the early hours of the morning.

+ + +

I’m lingering on the cusp of sleep, wondering if one can die from too much ecstasy. I’ve had sex three times in one night which is more than I might have had in a week of marriage. I don’t want to think about Chris, but random thoughts float into my head and then drift away.

I’ve had a one-night stand, with my high school crush, twenty-seven years after high school. I want to giggle with the naughtiness of it, but then I want to cry, knowing Cora was right. I’ll never feel this way again. And I want to feel it again. And again. Anyone who says once will be enough is lying. I can’t imagine how I’ll go on knowing it can be this good, but never with him. My eyes flip open to the hotel clock on the nightstand.

3:43 a.m.

At some point, we turned out the light and the night grew wilder.

“Let me fuck your tits, Mati.” I didn’t know what he meant until he straddled my upper body and pressed my breasts together, sandwiching his heavy dick between them. His body rocked, and his fingers squeezed. I didn’t think there would be anything in this position for me, but I was wrong. My body responded to the naughtiness, and my hips rolled into nothingness. The orgasm crept up my thighs, threatening as it tickled my sensitive core. Denton’s thrusts grew more uncontrolled, his massage near to hurting me, and yet I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight.

“Ready sweetheart?” I didn’t know what he was asking me, but then he stilled, and sticky wet liquid covered my chest. Denton rubbed his fingers through the substance, painting my breasts and tweaking my nipples before leaning back to enter me with his coated fingers. It was the most indecent and indescribable thing I’d ever done, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat if he asked me.

“You’re so perfect, Spice. That was a million times better than I imagined it to be, and I’ve imagined it so often.”

“That was…” I replied.

I should be embarrassed or shocked at his admission, that he’s fantasized about my breasts and doing what he did, but my fingers brush over sensitive nipples, peaked with the memory, and I smile to myself. I want to commit it all to memory and yet I know I’ll never be able to replicate it all in my head. It will never be as good in fantasy as the reality.

3:47 a.m.

We only have an hour before he has to leave. The airport is in Atlanta, and he has a drive to get there. Then he’s off to New York, returning to the high-profile life he leads. He’ll go back to California, and I’ll become a memory for him like he said.

A finger traces down my bare back, and I shiver at the tender touch. I don’t turn for him. I’m afraid to look. I don’t want to see regret in his eyes. Lips kiss down one vertebra at a time until he comes to the top of my ass. He flips me to my back and presses more kisses over my hip. The hardness of him is down near my calf, and I bend my leg to brush over the length.

“You little minx.” He kisses across the scar low on my belly.

“I thought I was a lion cat.”

He pauses to look up at me. It’s dark in the room, but somehow, I can make out his features. His eyes spark despite the lack of light.

“Yes, definitely a wildcat. So wild.” He slips over my legs and brings his body flush with mine. The tip of him points at my entrance, but he’s making no attempt to enter me. Instead, he rests on his elbows, brushing back my hair and staring down into my face.

“I’m not pretending with you,” he says, and I return his stare. I don’t know what he means. My eyes don’t leave his, trying to read his thoughts. He can’t be telling me the truth.

“Don’t let me go. Not yet,” he says, kissing me softly, nudging the tip of himself between swollen, overused folds that want to take him again. “I want to love you one more time.”

My breath hitches when I understand what he means. He doesn’t want me thinking outside our little box. This will be our final round. He glides into me, tenderly taking his time. He’s softer in his movements, sweeter in his words. We’re making love, and a traitorous tear leaks as I unravel under him, like a slowly opened gift. I want to savor the unwrapping, knowing in my heart this is the last time we’ll be together.

“I lied,” he says, his neck beginning to strain with the slower pace. I’m struggling to get there as my thoughts fight my body. “Maybe we can pretend one more time. Pretend you love me, Mati.”

I swallow as I’m overwhelmed by the depth of him in me. The strength of our connection. The intensity of the moment. I don’t need to pretend. I know how I feel.

“I love you, Denton.” His eyes close and he presses forward. A pulse. A release. Warmth quickly fills me. Then I’m cold.

He didn’t say the words in return.

His head lowers to the crook of my neck, and he breathes deep. I didn’t come, and suddenly my tears are the release I lacked. Shit.

“I need to go,” he says into my skin, and I’m projected back to being seventeen. Only this time, I already know all the reasons he’s leaving me. I don’t like them any better now than I did back then.