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But he doesn’t stop—he continues to thrust, and I clench the pillow with my hands and hang on for dear life as he rides me hard and fast for another thirty seconds until finally his climax hits. He groans and shudders, swelling inside me, and I feel his pleasure in every cell of my body.
He gives delicious little movements of his hips, sending aftershocks through me, before he finally withdraws.
He kisses my ear and murmurs, “Are you okay?”
“I can’t move. All the bones in my body have disappeared. I’m so fucking hot.”
“Aw. I’ll put the fan on.” He gets up—how does he have the energy to move?—goes around the bed, and switches the fan on, and I sigh at the blast of cool air over my heated skin.
I hear him leave the room, but I still can’t move. I listen to him in the kitchen, opening the fridge, and then he comes back into the room and climbs onto the bed.
“Cold water,” he says, handing me the bottle.
“I can’t move.”
He laughs, leans across to put the bottle on my bedside table, then lies beside me, head propped on a hand. I turn my head to look at him, but it’s all the movement I can manage.
He looks amused. “You did ask,” he says.
Oh yeah. He’s right.Are you going to fuck me until my teeth rattle?
“Me and my big mouth,” I mumble, and his lips curve up.
My gaze skims lazily over his face, his broad shoulders, the muscles of his chest, all painted with moonlight. He lifts a hand and moves a strand of hair off my face where it’s stuck to my cheek. Then he trails a finger down my back to the dip at the base of my spine.
“You look amazing,” he says.
“You mean I look soundly fucked.”
“Yeah.”
We both laugh.
“I mean it,” he says. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
I turn my head and bury my face in the pillow. “Stop it,” I say, my voice muffled.
“I think I’m a little bit in love with you, Heidi Rose Huxley.”
I go still. Did I hear him right?
I turn my head back. He smiles.
“I’m a little bit in love with you, too,” I whisper.
We study each other for a while.
“It was a bit dumb to sleep together, wasn’t it?” I say.
“Just a bit.”
“We should have known.”
“Yeah.”
I know I should be worried or upset. Heartache is on the cards, one way or another. But I can’t feel anything except joy at his words.
“Thank you for the three orgasms,” I say.
