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I thought I was all the way in deep but she’s asked for more. I realize… I’m not close enough to her.
Urging her to wrap her legs around my waist, I slip one arm under her back and the other under her neck, giving an all-encompassing embrace as I move inside her. My cheek pressed to hers, I slowly pump in and out, wondering how it’s possible that I feel her all over me.
Surrounding me.
Infiltrating.
Minutes ago we were so hot for each other that I thought this would go rough, fast and frenzied. Even with all the tender feelings I’ve developed for her, lust has overtaken us both.
But now… I want it slow, this gentle rocking that shouldn’t feel as good as a hard, passionate fuck, but it does.
It feels better.
“Camden.”
Danica’s whisper penetrates and I realize I’ve closed my eyes, pressed my temple to hers and allowed myself to get lost in her.
I lift my head, stare down at her through the sensual haze clouding my head. “Yeah?”
“This feels so good.” Her words are drawn out, without hurry.
“Yeah,” I agree softly.
Brushing an almost chaste kiss across her mouth, I lift my head to fix my gaze on her. Loosening my arm under her neck, I move it to press my palm into the mattress for leverage. I leave my other arm under her back to keep our bodies pressed as tight as possible.
I’ve never liked the term “making love.” It feels cliché and overused. Besides, what we have between us isn’t love.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
But this transcends anything I’ve ever felt for another woman. I don’t know if that’s because our history is so intertwined with tragedy and survival or if it’s like recognizing like.
What I do know is that with this slow pleasure swelling between us by the leisurely pumping of my hips against hers, neither of us in the typical hurry to get where sex normally leads, well… that tells me I need to pay fucking attention to what this is and where it’s going.
Time doesn’t quite stand still but seems to tick by with an acceptable slowness. All the while I thrust in and out, in and out.
Never in a hurry.
It’s only when Danica starts making a throaty noise—somewhere between a moan and a plea—that I know she’s close. It’s the same sound she uttered the first time I made her come and I’m now pressed to more urgency. I remember how beautiful it was when she broke apart and I’m eager to see it again.
It’s only at this point—my desire to give Danica the ultimate pleasure—that I feel my orgasm furling, vibrating, threatening to shake loose.
It seems against my will because while I love the slow fucking, my pace picks up. There’s definite provocation as I want to push Danica to release.
Dipping my head, I put my mouth near her ear. “With me, sweet girl.”
“Yes,” she pants.
She’s still secure in my hold, my arm under her back. I grab her hand, pull it in close to us and lower my body. My hips tunnel as my mouth takes hers. I barely get a swipe of my tongue against hers when my orgasm explodes. My groan pours into her mouth as I plant deep and I’m vaguely aware of Danica bucking under me.
Vaguely aware of her nails digging into me.
Dimly, I hear her calling out, “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Fuck.” I curse into her mouth as I grind against her, the orgasm shredding me. “Fuck yes.”
I huff out a massive exhale, blinking my eyes against the dimming, which might be me on the verge of passing out from my powerful release.
