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Now, when I look at her, all I feel is longing. Sadness that these past few days have been a ruse. Sadness that she’s not really mine. Sadness that when this is all over, we have to go back to keeping our distance and being nothing but cordial exes again.
Sure—in our time apart, I’ve missed the sex and the laughter, sharing meals and going on long car drives. But I’ve missed the moments like this, too. The companionship. The stability. The mundane moments of just existing together in the same space.
A sharp tug pulls in my chest. Letting her go again will be agony.
She glazes a neutral pink lipgloss across her lips, flecks of glitter dazzling when the light hits it. That simple action makes my cock twitch. A groan gets locked in my chest.
Feeling my stare on her, Alana’s attention lifts from the mirror, finding mine. “What?” A little smile dances at the corners of her mouth as she applies the lip shine again.
Acting on compulsion, I approach her from behind, resting my hand on her waist. Instead of diving deep into my feelings for her, I choose to keep things light and playful. “Just thinking about your sweet mouth, that’s all.” I brush my lips behind her earlobe.
Her eyes go hazy. “Oh, yeah?” She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip and I know it’s unintentional. “What exactly are you thinking about my mouth?”
My fingers trail along the waistband of her jeans, caressing the exposed skin there. “About the way it feels on me.”
“On what part of you?” the little vixen questions.
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I whisper, dropping my lips to her neck as I press my semi-erection to her rear.
My hand finds her breasts, gently hefting one and then the next. An involuntary whimper leaves her throat.
“Don’t act like you don’t know how much you drive me crazy. Don’t act like you don’t know that I want you. Every part of you. All the time.”
Pulling in a steely breath, she momentarily stops swooning for long enough to regain her composure. “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Chief Deputy Sheriff Westbrook.” She slips the tube of lipgloss back into her makeup case and turns toward me. “Tell meexactlywhat you want to do with my mouth.”
My balls go tight when she rubs those lips together, smoothing the lipgloss evenly over her lips. I watch her, spellbound by all the gorgeousness that she is.
I reach up and pinch her chin, angling her face toward me. “I’m gonna need your pretty mouth on my cock, Alana.” My lips trail along her jawline.
“Shit…” she hisses as I nip at her throat with my teeth. “That’s so fucking hot.”
Grabbing her by the waist, I spin our bodies around. Now, I’m the one propped against the sink vanity. “On your knees, Princess.”
A sly twinkle lights up her blue eyes before she drops to the floor in front of me. Bringing her hands to my towel, she loosens the terrycloth and lets it fall to the grimy tiled floor. My throbbing length springs forward, eager for her attention.
“What now?” she asks with an innocence I’m not buying.
Fisting my erection, I drag my dripping crown over her pouty bottom lip, blotting a layer of precum on top of her pretty lipstick, smudging the perfectly painted color. “You know exactly what I want. Open that smart little mouth of yours and suck my cock.”
“Mmm,” she hums. “Well, that’s a order I can follow.”
Both of her hands close around my length, encasing the flesh in warmth and a soft pressure that makes my head go light.
Then she slips her mouth over the tip, puckering her lips and sucking lightly, before opening wider to take another inch, and then another, and then another.
She whimpers softly, sliding her lips back up my shaft to give attention to the crown again. The visual is enough to send a spike of adrenaline to my brain.
“Like that?” she asks playfully, her eyes flicking up to me.
Under the harsh bathroom bulb, my length glistens with her saliva. And there’s glitter everywhere. On my cock. Around her mouth. On her hands. It almost makes me laugh. “Yeah, like that.”
Grinning with mischief, she dives back in. My fingers rake through her silky hair before cupping the back of her skull. I grip her in place, gently holding her on my cock. She stares up at me, reading my every reaction, assessing the effect she’s having on me.
Those soft blue eyes put me under a fucking spell. And I know I’d do anything in this world for her, whatever it would take to make her happy. Even if she’s not mine. That’s what love is.
I love her, dammit.
Why is it that I could never just separate sex from love? Why did the two always have to come hand in hand? Why couldn’t I just be like other guys and compartmentalize one from the other?
