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Arching her neck, she pants out a curse, tightening her legs at my sides. I smooth a hand over her stomach and palm her other tit, squeezing it roughly. The piercing scrapes at my palm before I start to pinch her nipple between my fingers and tug.
“Cooper,” she whines, a pair of deep blue, desire-drunk eyes meeting mine, snuffing out the air surrounding us with a single glance.
Fuck. This is a picture I’ll never forget. She would be a beautiful painting. A prized portrait on a wall, hung above all the others. It would take hours, maybe even days, to get the exact colour of her eyes right. Not too blue but not grey. Not teal or navy. They deserve a name of their own, reserved only for her.
“Tell me how to get you there without touching your pussy,” I groan into her wet skin.
She curls one leg behind mine, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s trying to pull me closer or if she just wants more leverage. Either way, I reach back and hold behind her knee, keeping her steady.
“Pull on them. Bite them. Just a little more,” she pants, eyes squeezing shut. “It’s right there. This is where it stops.”
Determination strokes down my spine as I bite the nipple in my mouth and twist the other at the same time. I should be tearing that scrap of fabric from between her legs and thrusting two fingers inside of her right now in my effort to get her off, but as much as it kills me to make her wait, I know this will be ten times more rewarding for both of us.
“Again.” It’s both a cry and a plea, and I don’t hesitate before complying.
My heart thumps rapidly in my chest as I watch her fall apart beneath me. An expression I never dreamed of witnessing crosses her features, knocking the breath from my lungs as her sounds of pleasure bury themselves deep in my memories.
“So good,” she mewls, heel digging into the inside of my thigh, nails biting the back of my neck. “Sofuckinggood.”
I can’t look away from her, even after I settle back on my knees and steady my heart rate. Her cheeks are stained a deep red as dark as her lips. A primal feeling claws at me when I watch her lick those lips and whimper as the pleasure seeps away.
What would it have felt like to kiss her? Is she as impatient when she kisses as she is when she begs to come? It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason I can’t seem to shake, it does.
“Are you okay?” I ask after a moment of silence.
“Mmhmm. Very okay. Are you?”
“Yes.”
“I am a bit tired, though.” Her smile is soft, almost shy.
Blonde, blue, and pink hair covers the white duvet. She looks so tired as she watches me, blinking slowly. I don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late.
“You should sleep,” I say, pushing off the bed.
Fingers wrapping around my wrist keep me from getting too far. I glance back at her as she says, “You haven’t changed your mind now, have you?”
“Why would I do that?”
She rolls her lips. “You’re just leaving quick. I wasn’t expecting you to cuddle me or anything, but maybe sit with me for a while. I haven’t even thanked you yet.”
I frown. She thinks I’m running off? “You don’t have to thank me. And I was just giving you some time to get ready for bed. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”
“You should never tell a woman that she looks tired, Sparrow.”
“Don’t start with me. Go take your makeup off before you fall asleep with it on and then complain to me first thing in the morning when you have flakes of mascara in your eyes. I’ll be here when you come back.”
With a lighthearted huff, she crawls out of bed and rushes to the bathroom, swiping the T-shirt she wore earlier from the floor along the way.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper to myself.
How is it that we can do something as intimate as what transpired a few minutes ago and then go back to normal like it never happened? I’ve never experienced a situation like this before.
I’ve been with a few women over the years, but it’s never been as easy as this. Maybe I should have expected this. Adalyn may be my wife, but she was my friend first. She still is.
When the tap begins to run in the bathroom, I chuck off my slacks, exchanging them for some loose sleep pants. I debate tossing a shirt on but decide against it before adjusting Adalyn’s pillows and pulling back the duvet so she can crawl straight into bed.
By the time she wanders out of the bathroom, I’ve managed to wish away my hard-on and prop myself on the bed with the TV on. Wearing nothing but an oversized graphic tee that reaches her mid-thigh, she looks toward the bed and grins when she spots me waiting.
