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I scan the kitchen and living area, then move swiftly to my bedroom, where I find her sprawled on my bed, fast asleep. The view of her like this, alone, takes my breath away.
Torn between my need to wake her up and talk to her and her need to sleep off her exhaustion, the latter wins, and I crawl into bed, wrap my arms around her, bury my nose in her strawberry hair.
There’s no way I’m going to fall asleep. The adrenaline pumping in my veins alone can keep me awake well into next year. But just holding her is enough. After a few minutes of us lying still, I feel her stirring in my arms. A soft moan escapes her lips, and her hands circle around mine, pressing me harder against her.
“Hey, Mars?” she murmurs. “Tell me something interesting about the universe.”
I close my eyes, smiling into her hair. “There’s a planet made of diamonds. It is twice the size of planet Earth and is covered by graphite and diamonds.”
And, if given a chance, I would give you a ring with a diamond even bigger. If you say yes.
But, of course, Bumpkin is not Grace. She doesn’t care for expensive jewelry.
“I bet it’s beautiful,” she whispers. Shivers roll down my skin, and I kiss the side of her ear.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
She laces her fingers through mine and drags my hand up her chest. Her heart is beating like a drum, each thump thrusting into my palm. Mine.
She is not wearing a bra, and her nipple pebbles through her dress. My thumb massages her nipple soothingly, and my mouth clasps over the curve of her neck and shoulder. My cock is engorged, aching for her. She rolls on top of me and straddles my hips, staring down at me with unabashed hunger, and I cannot believe I’ve ever fucked a woman who wasn’t her. A person who didn’t look at me the way she does now. Like I’m her entire world. Her moon, her stars, the Milky Way, and the galaxies around it.
“Missed you, Bumpkin.” I let loose a vicious smile. She leans forward and shuts me up with a dirty kiss.
Blood roars in my veins. I unbuckle while she hikes up her dress. I tug her panties sideways and slide into her. She rides me, slow and tauntingly, our gaze never breaking.
“I thought you never allow women into your bed.” She bites my neck and rolls her hips, meeting me halfway, like she knows my body like the palm of her hand.
“What did you want me to say?” I groan out, my pleasure so acute I can barely breathe. “Sorry, you can’t get into my bedroom because I stole a giant poster of you from your workplace. PS, please don’t file a restraining order against me?”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Become your stalker?” I thrust into her, staring deep into her eyes. I’m trying to concentrate on the conversation so I don’t blow my load after five minutes. “It was premeditated, believe it or not.”
She reaches to kiss me. “No. Take the poster.”
“So I’d always feel close to you.”
This pleases her, and she picks up the pace while I tug at the front of her dress, freeing those magnificent breasts. I pull her down by holding one button between my fingers, then suck on one of her nipples hungrily.
Her head drops to my shoulder. “Arsène.”
“Winnie.”
She stops. For a moment, I think something’s happened. She straightens her back, though I’m still inside her. I feel my pulse in my balls. My cock would scream if it could.
“What?” I ask.
“You called me Winnie.”
I smile. “It’s your name.”
“You never call me by my nickname. Other than that one time, you’ve only called me Winnifred or Bumpkin.”
In one swift movement, I flip her over on her back, pinning her underneath me, doing all of this without withdrawing from her once. I kiss the tip of her nose.
“That’s because everyone calls you that, and I always wanted you to remember me.”
She strokes my cheek. “There wasn’t one moment in time since Italy that I haven’t remembered you.”
I pound into her. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air. It is brutal. It is hungry. It’s nothing like I’m used to. We’re in our own little bubble. I never want to leave.
She gasps, digging her nails into my back, like she is about to fall apart. I thrust into her, harder still, faster, almost manically. Because I have no guarantee that I will see her tomorrow. No one promised me this is hello and not a goodbye. We haven’t spoken yet, and the sense of urgency is seizing each of my bones in a choke hold.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she pants.
She arches beneath me, spasms around my cock, and suddenly, she feels hotter—much hotter—and my balls tighten as I come inside her.
