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“Good morning,” he said, his body relaxing again as he pulled me into his chest. He finally looked at me and his blue eyes seemed brighter in the morning light pouring in the windows. Somehow happier, less weighed down. I held his stare and kissed him, not wanting to look away because I couldn’t if I tried.
“How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead.” He smirked and nipped at my nose playfully. “You wore me out.”
I laughed and matched his position of my arm around his back, scooting up just enough to get better access to his mouth. I nipped at his lips, flicked my tongue along the seam, urging him to open up. And he did. His head tipped to the side to get better access to my mouth. His large palm spread wide on my back, holding me as tight as he could to his chest, mashing my breasts against him.
We made out like we were starving and the other was our only sustenance. We both moaned when his cock slipped between my thighs and rubbed at the folds of my pussy.
“Can we . . . .” He began breathlessly. “Can we try again?”
I gave him a teasing smile. “I thought you were worn out.”
“Not that much,” he said, rolling on top of me.
This time was more intentional than last night. Last night was a heat of the moment, taking advantage of becoming lost in each other. This morning, lying naked in his arms, I spread my legs to allow his hips room to rest against me. He supported himself on one arm and scooted back enough to reach down and grip his cock, placing it at my entrance. I didn’t blink when he swiped the soft head up and down my folds, making my hips jerk up to meet him.
His lips parted, breaths panting out of them as he notched himself inside me just enough to let go and pushed in one slow inch at a time.
“I could get used to it here. Make your pussy my home.”
“It’s yours.”
He framed my head between his forearms, his flexing biceps on each side of my face, but I barely noticed because he moved inside me. He stared at me with awe, like I was the answer to everything he’d ever been searching for. Had anyone ever felt so cherished?
My thighs strained from the tension the pleasure created. He rocked his hips, grinding against me causing me to gasp.
“Does that feel good?” He smiled and did it again. And again.
“Callum. Please.”
Sweat beaded on his brow and his pace picked up, the rhythm becoming less smooth than a moment before. He pushed hard, and I cried out. I lifted my leg over his hip, needing to feel him deeper. He leaned down and finally kissed me, moving his other hand to my thigh to hold me in place as he really began to fuck me.
“Oaklyn. Oaklyn.” He said my name like a prayer and each time he moaned it into my flesh, it sent another wave of pleasure to my core, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I held onto him tightly, loving the feel of this strong man flexing above me, his chest hair abrading my nipples, bringing them to life.
As he began to lose control, he bit down on my neck with a long moan. The frantic pace was hard and deep and hit my clit each time. I rose and rose until finally my whole body pulled tight and exploded. I moaned out my release, loving the sound of his mixing with my own, like music unique to us. To our pleasure, to our love.
When I opened my eyes, he was staring down at me again, so intense, and so light, and just happy. Reaching up, I wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and buried my fingers in his hair. I couldn’t help but smile at him, loving how beautiful he was, how beautiful he made me feel.
I loved him.
The reality of it hit me, and I think I always felt it there, building beneath the surface, but watching him return my smile, still buried inside me, there was no denying it. I loved him.
My smile switched to a laugh and he laughed with me until both of us had tears forming in our eyes from all the emotions creating a bubble around us. When he slipped out of me, we moaned in unison, and he leaned down to kiss me before falling to his side.
“Can we do that all day?”
“I wish, but I can’t. I have a meeting with my advisor today.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Yeah. He wanted to show me around the athletic center and meet the physical therapist there. Said Sundays are a good day because it tends to be slower, and he had more time to walk me around.”
