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Something in his eyes told me he wasn't sure. Though his sadness didn't hold. I had other things on my mind, and I guess he did, too. “Tell me where I'm allowed to touch you,” he said. His words were hot. His voice was hoarse and thick.
I could barely think. “You can touch me here,” I said, guiding his hand up my thigh. Joel wasn’t hesitant. He didn’t fumble his way around like some guys might. He got straight to the point, and I appreciated that.
I didn't want him to stop. I told him this. “Please,” I begged.
“I won’t,” he murmured.
Then he kissed me. He kissed me hard. I was a little surprised by the way everything accelerated from that point forward. I needed a breath, but it felt like I couldn't breathe. It was hard to remember how. My entire body was on fire.
His hands were in my hair, up my dress, everywhere. He worked his way down my body. His touch was soft and gentle, yet firm. He stopped for a moment to suck my nipples, to kiss my stomach, to nuzzle between my legs. Eventually, he moved his mouth up again and kissed my neck, my mouth. “You're beautiful.”
Just like before, he moved his hands beneath my dress and I moaned. My dress was too tight, my legs were spread, and he didn't seem to care that I was dying. I had to bite my lip not to scream out as he moved his hand over me and into me, again and again. Building. And releasing.
“You good?” he asked, his expression a little concerned, which I thought added a nice touch. I was good. Better than good. I couldn't believe how powerful his hands were, his whole body. This wasn’t my first rodeo, obviously, but I realized in that moment, I’d never met anyone like Joel Miller, and I probably wouldn’t ever again. And that was okay, better than okay, because I’d found what I wanted.
He kissed me again, harder this time. I'd stopped looking at the sunrise. The world stopped. All I could do was feel. He moved his hands over my hips, pushing my dress up so he could have full access. I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing his face into me. He resisted, but only long enough to look up. “God, I want you.”
He pulled me closer, down onto the seat, and I thought he'd break me in two. I felt his hardness against me. The pressure. “Joel,” I said, but I couldn't think of what was supposed to come next. My heart was pounding. My chest was tight, my lungs constricted. I moved my mouth over his, and he kissed me back. He was still kissing me when I felt the pinching sensation.
And then he was inside of me. It was so fast, so sudden. I gasped and bit my lip. He moved inside me, slow at first, then faster and faster. His fingers dug into my skin as he moved his hands over me. He moved his mouth over me, kissed me, sucked my nipples, then moved up again and kissed my neck, my mouth. “You're so tight,” he said. “So good.”
I shut my eyes and lost myself in the moment. I’d never felt anything like it. He was inme—not just his hands and mouth and cock—there was nothing separating us now. There was nothing between us. He was everywhere. I felt my legs open wider. I felt my hips move. I felt the sensation of him moving, the pressure, and it didn’t stop. It was just too much.
“You like that, don't you?” he said. “You like feeling my cock inside you?” I nodded, unable to speak.
And then I came. I felt it pulse through me, pleasure and pain, as I said his name. There was a moment when I was a little concerned he might actually be killing me, but then I didn't care. Death wasn’t so bad if it was like this. Nothing felt real until I felt his hot release inside of me.
Afterward, he said, “You still want to go to the courthouse?”
“If it means I get to spend the rest of my life doing that, then yes.”
“That?” he told me. “That was just a warm-up. It's still early yet.”
