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My hands start working on autopilot, and I reach for the fly of my denim shorts, unbuttoning them and pushing them down my legs. His eyes don’t move from mine, but the towel slowly lowers. I’m nervous. I can’t let him see me nervous. I step out of my shorts and unfasten the buttons of my shirt as I pad toward him, hoping, praying his craving for me outweighs his annoyance.
The towel drops to the floor.
His thighs spread a fraction more.
I breathe in, my nerves vanishing and desire appearing, hot and potent.
The moment I’m within reach, his arm extends, snaking around my lower back, and he tugs me into him, pulling my shirt apart and kissing my stomach, his huge hands on my hips, holding me, mine resting on his shoulders. I exhale raggedly, looking down at the back of his head, sliding my fingers to his nape and playing with the fine hair there. It’s fairer than when I first met him.
Because he’s spending more time in the light. More time in sunshine.
His fingers slip into the sides of my panties and pulls them down, and he looks up at me, his eyes clouded and desperate. I stroke across his stubble and lower my mouth to his, kissing him softly. “She’s here,” I whisper. “She’s here and she’s yours.”
He groans and stands, lifting me and settling me on the bench, yanking my legs apart as he falls to his knees before me. “My period,” I gasp, my back straightening, my hands not knowing whether to hold on to James or the bench. But then he growls, slams his mouth between my thighs, and my decision is made for me, my hands grabbing onto his hair.
He bites at my thighs, kisses, sucks my flesh, and despite him avoiding entering me, I start to shake violently, yanking at his hair, making his head jar and jerk. And just when the pressure is about to release, he pulls away and stands, and I moan my loss. He dips and pushes my shirt from my shoulders, pulling it off each wrist and tossing it aside, then yanks the cups of my bra down. With the absence of his hot mouth, the air between my thighs suddenly feels cooler, and it is welcome. I watch, awed, as he pulls his T-shirt off, his chest undulating as he does, and then his shorts are gone and he is gloriously naked and impressive before me, his cock ready and dripping. I swallow and reach for it, hungry, eager, and circle him at the root, opening my mouth and moving in, looking up as I do, seeing him watch me. I lick. A groan. I bite. A jerk. I suck. Vibrations.
The feeling of his vein throbbing against my tongue encourages me to take it all, and he hits the back of my throat hard. It takes everything in me not to gag.
“Fuck,” he grates, quickly pulling himself out and taking me under my arms, lifting me from the bench. He holds me against his body and turns, sitting down and lifting me a fraction. “We shouldn’t,” I say for the sake of it, knowing he won’t stop. Can’t stop. I don’t want him to stop. I drop my forehead to his and reach between us, removing my tampon as I close my eyes. I need him inside me. I need this, for me, for him, for us. I falter for a moment.
“My towel,” he whispers, and I look around, seeing it on the floor. James bends, lowering me, and I swipe it up, quickly ridding myself of what stands between us in this moment. Then I take what I need, guiding him to my entrance and sinking down slowly, both of us exhaling.
God, that feels incredible, him filling me so completely. Pulsing. Close. I place a hand on each of his shoulders and link my ankles around his back, pulling away so I can see his face, his chest, his thick biceps, his abs rolling. It’s all magnificent, but his face...
It’s straight now, not a hint of his pleasure showing as he watches me move on top of him, letting me do all the work. “Do you want me to kiss you?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “Do you want me to move faster?” Another shake of his head. “Stay like this?”
A nod, a palm slipping up my body from my hip and sliding onto my exposed breast. He strokes and molds, and still his eyes never leave mine as I circle my hips, thrust slowly, leisurely building our pleasure.
The way he’s studying me.
Absorbed.
He takes in every piece of me, his eyes moving slowly across my face, my wounds, my body, his lips slightly parted, his breaths short and strained. I swallow, feeling the rush of my climax taking hold, giving me no warning. James nods, reclaiming my hips, guiding me, and every muscle I can see hardens before my eyes. I gasp and slap my palms into his pecs, bracing my arms, my pace increasing. He shakes his head, stilling, and I cry out, my head falling back as my orgasm retreats. “Fuck,” I breathe, starting slowly again, working both of us back up, being sure not to go faster than he wants, as I bring my eyes back down to his face. It’s all I need to get me to the edge again.
It tickles, teases, temps me to grab it and claim the pleasure, begs me to move faster.
I don’t.
James groans, it’s suppressed, and his thighs harden beneath me. Then he nods, and it seizes us both, snapping our spines straight, forcing our chests together, as well as our mouths, and I am kissed into oblivion as he spills himself inside me, his strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly as we shake and kiss and moan.
I puff and pant into his mouth, sliding my face away and burying it in the crook of his neck. “Okay?” I whisper, not liking his silence.
He nods, feeling out my finger and turning the ring.
To remind me it’s there.
“I love you,” I murmur.
And he nods.
James moves around the kitchen silently, the shadows between his shoulder blades growing and shrinking each time he reaches into a cupboard or opens a door or drawer. He slides a plate across the island to me. “Eat,” he says, clipped.
“I’m not—”
“I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat, Beau.” He picks up a piece of toast and thrusts it toward me. “So eat.”
I accept and he goes to the fridge, pulling out an array of green fruit and vegetables, placing them all onto the counter before collecting a chopping board and a blender. I nibble the corner of my toast as I watch him move quietly and efficiently around the kitchen, peeling and cutting and loading into the blender. “I’ve been thinking.”
