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He feeds me into him slowly and our gasps mingle.
Oh, Eth.
More, Fin. I need you deep.
He moves and my grip on him doubles.
You’re so tight and slick. Perfect. Oh, fuck, I could slide into you like this forever.
Ethan rolls his hips and clenches around me, like he wants to feel every inch of me too.
I rise up and catch his slackened bottom lip between my teeth. His erection rubs hot against my belly. The wet tip leaves quickly cooling trails on my skin. He cups my head and deepens our kiss. I feel him pouring his soul into me and I whimper. I’m thrumming everywhere; I can’t stay still.
He whispers for me. He meets every thrust halfway. My dick is being tortured with delicious friction and it feels so freeing. That we can have this. We aren’t hiding anything. We can love one another. Hold one another. Lust after one another.
His tongue darts around my ear and he nibbles my neck, his moans hot and ticklish. He’s whispering. Lie back.
I do. His thighs clamp around me, and then he throws his head back and grunts out my name as he rides me. His dick slaps against my belly and his rhythm grows faster, like he’s close, like he needs this as much as I do.
My legs stiffen, I call out a warning and Ethan takes hold of himself and jerks fervently. Everything about how open and easy he is, how much he gives in to his pleasure and mine and makes it ours . . .
I’m a dam about to burst. I grip his thighs, feeling them flex. I’m thrusting up in time with him and—
I want to live in you. I want to feel this forever.
Ethan cries out and ropes of come hit my chest. He spasms around me and—
“Eth.”
Deep inside him, I spill, and spill, and spill.
We stay in bed the rest of the day and all night. We make love two, three, four times . . .
I wake with him wrapped around me, and I wriggle back—
Five times.
We shower. Six times.
“I am so glad we live together,” Ethan says softly as he ties up my dressing gown.
I’m tempted to ravish him again.
He laughs and slips his own dressing gown on. “How about some pancakes first?”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Happy seventh anniversary.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“I mean, if we count from the moment when you were a princess and I fell out of that tree and—”
“Into my arms?”
“Into love with you.”
Ethan sucks in his breath and shuts his eyes. His arms tighten around me. He’s smiling. “If we count from the moment I fell for you . . . Happy seventh anniversary and a few weeks.”
I pull back and blink. “Really? When?” His eyes glitter.
The doorbell chimes.
Ethan, laughing, leaves me on the hook as he heads down the hall. I race after him.
He winks at me cheekily and opens the door.
Mum, Tom and Julia are on the other side.
Tom eyes our attire and turns to Mum, but he’s smirking. “I told you we should have called first.”
Julia charges in and I catch her in my arms. “We’re here for pancakes. We brought pears from the garden.”
Ethan and I trade glances.
I’ll cook.
He rolls his eyes.
We laugh. “Come in, Maata. Dad.”
“Welcome to our home.”
Later, as we say goodbye to Mum, Tom and Julia, Ethan cuddles me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. He says it for me; he says it for everyone. “I fell in love with you the moment I met you.”
Ah, what happiness it is to be with people who are all happy, to press hands, press cheeks, smile into eyes.
K. Mansfield, “The Garden Party”
