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Supposedly.
If that’s true, this needs to count, this whole night where every hour feels like a breathless eternity that’s never long enough.
I want her captured in the moment.
Not thinking about anyone else.
Not dwelling on the fact that we’re doing everything we shouldn’t.
Not tomorrow’s trouble.
Just her and me, tangled up in this bed, alive with our own brute passions and driving each other out of our minds with filthy promises.
I slow my fingers as she squeezes around me, and she squirms, desperate for release.
“Look at me, Dess,” I order again through clenched teeth.
“So demanding,” she says, but her voice is tight.
There’s no more play in her eyes as she finally meets mine.
That familiar pressure becomes a raging current against my spine.
I slow down a little more—barely.
I’m not coming before she does.
“Shepherd,” she begs again. “Shepherd, please.”
“Since you asked nicely...” I press my thumb against that sensitive nub, knowing she’s ready.
Fuck, is she ever.
With one shrill moan, she comes apart under me.
It’s almost violent.
Shaking the bed, crying my name, my entire body shaking with animalistic energy, driving to her very depths.
Just like that, I lose the battle with my own orgasm and I tear the fuck open.
I didn’t want this to end, but there’s something impossibly hot about watching her come for me, and I can’t hold back.
With one more furious breath, I join her in the reverie, coming until my vision, my body, my everything are stars.
Destiny, indeed.
I’m deathly afraid she’s going to be mine.
When I’m done, I know we should clean up. Yet I can’t bring myself to roll out of bed and away from her when we’re both rendered boneless.
She sighs, long and deep, and when I pull her into me, she doesn’t fight.
Even though this is on the heels of one of the best orgasms of my life, there’s something melancholy about the afterglow.
A tinge of sadness that started the second she looked away.
If this wasn’t the last time, it’s coming in the next few hours.
