Page 81 of Fall Love

This feels like love. Or at least, more than lust.

He tugs aside my worthless panty, damp and stretched, and easily finds the sensitive spot. Like he already knows my body. Already knows what I want.

I sigh at the tender way he adds pressure, circling the delicate trigger in tight rotations, winding me tighter.

As I stay on my side, my back arches, seeking him.

He pauses, and I whimper. Then my underwear is removed, and I hear the distinct clank of a belt and the rush of denim over skin. His shirt must come next because when he returns to me, the heat of his chest seeps through the flannel over my back.

His bare thighs brush the back of mine, and that long, hard part of him rubs against my backside, patiently waiting its turn as Tate’s fingers return to me. My leg is hitched over his again, opening me wide for his exploration.

Tate moves in lazy circles and pressured strokes to tease me. To reel me in. I dig my heel into the back of his leg, spreading my thighs as best I can. The soft sound of my essence coating his fingers fills the room and I hum, curling my back again.

Tate kisses my neck, then licks around it to the side, where he digs his teeth into the soft pressure point at the same time he shoves two fingers inside me.

“Yes,” I quietly cry, not in any rush to speed things up, but needing his insistent touch. I cling to the pillow beneath my head.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, dragging his fingers back and forth. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

Unable to answer him, I purr once more at the delicious feel of his fingers.

“Don’t shut me out, Neve,” he quietly demands, forcing his fingers deeper inside me.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. I want to say it’s not him. It’s me. But I can’t think straight as his body works mine. His fingers already familiar. His touch the very thing I crave. His cock at the ready.

I reach behind me and position him between my legs. The head rests at my entrance while his fingers still play me.

I bend forward, shifting the angle of my body.

“Gonna make you come first,” he quietly says. I know he will, as only he can.

And I spin and I spin. Drifting higher and higher, like a kite climbing the wind. Tossed left, then right, but letting the breeze take me where it will.

Tate is the string master, and I am simply at his gentle command.

The higher I climb, the more Tate relinquishes control, until I simply soar, crying out his name like a song and spiraling in a manner that’s decadent.

“Yes,” I purr, letting a hiss follow as his head breaches my entrance, like he can’t wait any longer.

He’s sliding into me, easily filling me, because I’m so wet, because I’m so greedy.

I reach behind me for his hip, clinging to his firm side as he rocks into me, taking his time to move back and forth. A piston slowly warming up. The engine beginning to rev.

He has a hand in my hair, fisted against the back of my head. His other hand rests on my hip as he picks up the pace, tapping me in a new way.

Rhythmic. Steady. Soothing.

He’s the ocean lapping at the rocky cliffs. Or perhaps, he’s the hardened edges, stable and still, and I’m the wild one, crashing into him. Kissing him, like the ocean spray. Battering against him, like restless waves.

His pace picks up. “Neve?” he calls out, like he can’t believe I’m here. Can’t believe I’m with him again.

Or maybe that’s me. That’s how I feel.

And I can’t get close enough. I arch back as he thrusts forward, pulling him into me at the same time he pushes.

“Yes,” I moan again, tipping back my head.

He claps his fingers between my thighs again, but I brush at his wrist.