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“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, my hips already pumping faster than I intend.
She yelps, and I know I’m stretching her open too soon, but her legs wrapping around my hips and trying to move them tell me otherwise. Her knees hit the bed on either side, giving me access so close that my dick is hitting an impossibly deep spot.
“God, Patrick!” Her lips fuse to my neck, sucking on a spot that has my balls clenching tight.
“Calling me almighty?” I try to make a joke, but I groan as her hard nipples brush my chest in a downstroke.
Cassandra pushes on my chest, signaling me to flip over. I keep us connected, scooping her up in a fluid motion while I roll to my back and let her take charge.
“With moves that smooth,maybe,” she whispers into my mouth.
I assume she’ll slow our pace, but Cassandra moves up and down on my dick so feverishly that I can barely keep up. Tightening my abs to stop me from coating her walls with my release is the only thing I can do aside from watching her with my tongue falling out of my mouth.
She’s a vision, the way her hips swivel and she rolls her nipples in her fingers. Swatting her hands away, I replace them with my own, smoothing my fingers over the most sensitive parts of her breasts until her breathing is labored.
Never in my life has sex felt this intense. I’m a man, I’ve always enjoyed it. But until Cassandra, I hadn’t felt truly connected to someone on this level. Our bodies move in sync, hands touching the exact desired spot without the other begging. With each stroke, I grind up into her; the move sending shivers through us both. Leaning up on my elbows, I capture the lip she’s biting in my teeth, our eyes colliding as she rides me.
“Come for me. I need to feel you come.” My voice is hoarse as I command her.
“Patrick, too much …” she cries out as if she won’t be able to handle it and is holding back.
“Baby. Come.” I reach up and grab her chin, directing it until her eyes are locked on mine.
The endearment does the trick, her eyes snapping shut with a ragged breath as her hips twitch uncontrollably.
The world shifts, tilting on an axis I hadn’t previously thought possible. One where she and I can exist because there is no way I’m going back now. She’s infected me, I’m in this, and as I come on the detonation of her orgasm, my heart gives in. The restraints I put on it after everything I’d been through unlock like chains, the lock swinging wide open for her to claim it.
It never felt right with anyone else because it was never supposed to be anyone but her.
We said we’d take it slow, and I may be absolutely fucked in the head to think this, but I’d get down on one knee now if there wasn’t a possibility she’d think I was clinically insane.
Because that piece clicked into place. The feeling blindsided my blood.
That ever-elusiveitI’ve been searching for is right here, lying in the arms of the woman who just knocked me sideways.
18
PATRICK
Mom sings and taps her foot in time, a bunch of the lunchtime customers laughing as they wait for their takeout orders.
“A regular world-class singer over here.” I chuckle and roll my eyes as I ring up an order for Mr. French, the town councilman.
“A song and a stromboli, I’m a happy man today.” He rubs his stomach.
Mr. French stops in for his pepperoni stromboli every Thursday for lunch, and I see Mrs. Katten and her toddler twin girls waiting for their weekly plain pizza. We converted the space next door to Hope Pizza into a takeout counter about six years ago and have been doing the to-go orders from there ever since. This side boasts a glass display case with all our pies of the day, a few strombolis, and some of the appetizers we make. It’s a much more casual setup than the formal dining room, with a few first-come-first-served tables and a machine full of sodas.
“All we had was pancetta, so that’s what he made you,” Mom informs Mr. French.
“Even better. Ingrid doesn’t like when I have ham, but oh God, is it good.” He winks at us, and we all laugh.
Alana usually helps Mom with the lunch counter but had a doctor’s appointment today, so I’m on the hook. I don’t mind; getting out of the office every once in a while is a nice change of pace.
“Prosciutto for me, all day every day.” My mouth waters for lunch.
“This boy would eat melon and prosciutto for every meal when we took him to Italy in high school. I’d never seen anything like it.” Mom laughs.
“I can’t wait to travel with the girls.” Mrs. Katten, or Haley, sighs dreamily. “Brett keeps saying when they’re potty trained.”
