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I’m delirious. Intoxicated. My fingers claw into his shoulders as he cups each curve. His touch softens, his caress light and teasing. I bite my lip, look down at him as he rolls each pleading peak with his thumbs. I whimper, writhe, nurse the budding sensation...
‘You feel incredible...look incredible...’ Awe is in his voice, in his eyes as they burn into his touch. ‘Even better than I imagined.’
Has he imagined it? Somewhere deep my heart considers the possibility, but I don’t want my heart involved in this.
This is sex. Easy to pigeonhole. Compartmentalise. No deeper meaning. No heart.
But I’m drowning in his gaze, his fevered touch. Strings are being tugged that I have no control over...
His name is a hoarse cry on my lips as I tear my top from my body and throw it aside, take pleasure from his eyes that burn ever deeper. I feel powerful, empowered... I press him back into the bed and tease my body over him, our underwear the only barrier between us.
‘Do you have protection?’ I whisper.
He squeezes his eyes shut on a hoarse curse, holds me tight against him.
‘You don’t?’ Disappointment swamps me.
‘No, Summer.’ His eyes open, pierce mine. ‘This wasn’t—I never imagined—’
‘No, neither of us did.’ I nip my lip and say meekly, ‘But I’m on the pill.’
His jaw pulses, his grip around my hips too. ‘It’s not enough.’
My brows draw together. Does he not trust me? Does he think I’ve been unsafe? Or is he worried about himself?
He moves before I can, sliding my body beneath his as his lips claim mine in a kiss so thorough I wonder if it’s goodbye. But then his hands are moving down my front, his mouth too... He’s trailing kisses along my jaw, nipping at my earlobe as his fingers trace invisible patterns over my skin, teasing swirls that have me writhing and whimpering.
And then his mouth surrounds one nipple, and I throw my head back with a cry. ‘God, yes!’
A quiet voice at the back of my mind, the negative one, wants to ask what he’s doing? What does It’s not enough mean? But I can’t form a word past the luscious heat inside me, the heated coil that’s being wound tighter and tighter.
His fingers reach the lace of my thong and tease gently, deepening the pressure, circling and circling, until my toes curl into the bed and I can feel the edge so very near.
‘Edward, please...please, I need you.’
He slips his hand beneath the fabric. ‘I know, baby. I know.’
But his fingers are working their magic, coaxing me higher and higher. Baby. He called me baby. He’s never...not before... I’m panting as he parts me, his touch gentle, dizzying, hypnotic as he circles directly over me. His thighs trap my own, his fingers slipping inside. His thumb is rolling and rolling... And then his teeth scrape over my nipple and pleasure-pain rips through me.
‘Edward!’
‘Go with it, baby. Go with it.’
Baby. Baby.The endearment is killing me even as he takes me to the precipice. I claw his shoulders. I toss my head against the pillow, throw it forward to stare down at him. This is real. So real.
And I’m gone. My body is pulsing with an orgasm so intense, so mind-blowing, so fierce, that I feel like I’ve lost something of myself. Lost it and gifted it to him.
I’ll never get it back.
And I’m not sure I want to.
Edward
I feel her pleasure like my own. Watching her come apart—so wild, so free, so attuned to me—was breathtaking, and perfect, and more than I ever imagined it could be.
She sags into the bedsheets, her orgasm leaving her limp, and I climb back up her body, kiss a path all the way to her lips.
Could I ever get enough of this? Of her?
