Page 66 of The Boyfriend Experience

“Yes,” I moan, placing my hands flat on his chest as I begin to rock back and forth. I want to feel everything tonight.

“Yes,” he agrees, moaning back. Both hands still gripping my tits the way they did last night when he brought me to climax over, and over, and over again. “Fuck me,” he says. Urging me to go faster. “Fuck me hard, Oaklee.”

So I do. I stop rocking and start bouncing. My breasts still cradled in his hands. Holding them as I lift up and slam down.

I want him close to me. Even though I am exactly one arm’s width away, it’s too far.

And he gets that.

Because he gets me.

So his hands stop squeezing my tits and instead, he wraps his arms tight around my back, pulling me down on top of his chest. Holding me captive as he takes over. Thrusting up inside me with a desperation I’ve never felt before with anyone.

He takes me completely, just like that. Lying on a sheepskin rug, perfectly balanced on a picnic table, on top of my building, at the tip of the world.

He fucks me as the city watches.

Two people beneath an old water tower. Basking in glowing white lights. Hidden only by the false privacy of mosquito netting. Under the star-filled night sky.

We come.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - LAWTON

There is the rush of sexual climax… and then there’s the rush of sexual climax with someone you adore.

The difference between the two is so instinctual everyone knows this to be true. There is some connection… something in your chest. Maybe it’s the heart, maybe it’s the soul—it doesn’t really matter what you call it. When you have feelings for someone and you consummate that with a sexual experience everything is heightened.

Her whole body softens and then slips off to the side. Her breasts against my ribcage. Her face tucked into the crook of my neck. Her fingernails tracing some lazy pattern on my chest.

My eyes are closed so I don’t really know for sure if her eyes are closed too but I’m certain they are. She’s basking in the same post-coital glow as I am.

“So… question,” she whispers through her still-heavy breathing.

“Shoot.”

“Are you multi-orgasmic as well? Or is that just a talent you bring out in others?”

I smile. Hold in a laugh. Then open my eyes to a surreal fantasy version of the underside of her water tower.

The white lights make it all look so special. It’s funny how that happens. How a string of nine-dollar mini lights can change everything. How a sheepskin rug can turn an old wooden picnic table into something so much more. How a leather jacket and a tattoo can change a man in the span of two days. How a woman named Oaklee can make him see himself in a brand-new way.

I wrap my arms around her and roll over so she’s on her back and I’m on top. I move my hips. Just a little. Just enough for her to feel my still-hard cock against her inner thigh.

“What do you think?” I ask her.

She’s smiling up at me, her brown eyes turned slightly yellow from the glow of the lights, her cheeks pink. Flushed from the exertion of sex. Her breathing slower now, but not her heart. Because I can feel it underneath me.

Still pounding.

Waiting for more.

Trying to match mine.

So we can keep time together.

I think that’s what hearts do. Keep time. Keep everything together. Keep this crazy thing called life in perspective.

“One more time here,” I say. “Then I’ll take you inside so I can get you naked.”