Page 35 of Forced Perspective


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From the moment we touched down we’d been moving—showers, lunch, a boat ride, blah, blah, blah.

Now, he was finally doing what I’d wanted him to do all day, peeling the panties off me and diving face-first between my thighs.

Alwaysthe best way to help me tune out… everything.

His fingers, his tongue, his lips—every kiss, every lick, every stroke was masterful, building toward this all-encompassing bliss. My hands raked over his head as my hips bucked, trying to get closer to his mouth, impossibly.

I wanted more.

Wanted him inside me, and I said that, but he ignored it, choosing to devour me with increased vigor. One arm locked tight around my thigh to keep me in place, to keep me open as he licked and lapped his tongue, nibbled and sucked my exposed clit, finger-fucked me into a jelly-legged mess.

Andthenhe obliged my request.

A quick second to fully strip and then nothing between us as he sank into me as deep as he could get, then hooked my legs up over his shoulders to getdeeper,which should’ve been impossible. His hands went to my breasts, caressing and squeezing as he started up a slow, deliberate stroke. The greed in his gaze made me blush, made me close my eyes and give in to the loss of one sense in favor of amplifying the others.

The heated friction, the salty breeze through the windows, the wetness of skin on skin, the taste of me on his tongue as he shifted, settled between my legs to kiss me as he stroked.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered into my neck after he’d shifted again to kiss and bite me there, to leave marks on my skin that would claim me as his.

I smiled over my panting. “You can’t even see me right now.”

“But I can feel you.”

“Does that count?”

“Yes.”

I grinned again, quickly followed by a gasp as he hooked a hand under my knee, pushing it up and out to open me wider. He swallowed the screams that bubbled up as he sank even further into me, his other hand pinched around one of my nipples, tugging and teasing it into a rock hard, sensitive peak.

“I love you,” he declared against my lips. “You know that?”

I… stopped breathing.

Well, I already couldn’t, but especially now.

Did I know that?

My gut wasn’t rejecting it, but it was full of his dick at the moment, so it could also just be confused.

Or it could be correct.

He’d been patient with me this entire time and had never wavered in his declaration of wanting me. It would be easy to believe it was just about sex, but he could get that anywhere, and he hadn’t batted an eye when I revealed to him that I thought there was more between us.

He also hadn’t batted an eye when I told him my diagnosis.

I didn’t want to go through all this PR and relationship reveal and all that with him not even knowing therealme.

He’d had questions and concerns, but he’d also had… empathy and reassurance. And even though the last few weeks had been riddled with uncertainty and panic, they’d been flooded with conversations and deeper understanding and an even more connected inner world.

Because of that vulnerability.

And so… I guess…

“Yes,” I breathed. “I do. And…”

“Andwhat,” he taunted, with his hand between my legs now, his attention to my clit in tandem with his strokes making it hard tothink, let alone speak.

“I love you too,” I panted, finally finding enough air to give him back what he’d given me, what I’d fully planned to hold onto, for fear of it not being reciprocated.

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