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He leans even closer and I can feel his breath brush against my skin. “I was there, too, and that’s not what I said. I said youweren’ta mistake. That you were the best thing that ever happened to me.” He licks his lip, drawing my attention to the soft skin surrounded by stubble.
“I meant the next day. At my dad’s. You said you made a mistake.”
“Yeah, I made a mistake.” His eyes drift to my lips. “Walking away from you. From us. Letting you have your space. That was a mistake. One I won’t make again.”
Somehow he looms even closer. So close I’m afraid my breasts will rub against his chest if I take another breath. But I need air. I inhale as discreetly as I can, but we make contact anyway. I shudder.
He takes that as an invitation, reaching around my head and tugging me forward to close the distance between us. The instant our lips touch my body takes over, falling into the familiar rhythm we shared years ago when we knew each touch was a race against the clock, and wanting to make the most of it.
I return his kiss hungrily, ignoring the part of my brain that knows this is wrong. It’s been so long since I felt desired. So long since I’ve been touched with anything other than platonic affection or empathy.
My senses come alive. His mountain fresh soap floods my nostrils, fingertips leaving a trail of heat as they caress my face. His full, soft lips are both gentle and urgent as they meet with mine, tasting faintly of coffee. And my core, it tingles with interest for the first time in years.
I reach out to run my hands over the muscled chest in front of me, whimpering as my fingertips drift down and slide over the peaks and valleys of a washboard stomach. Wes groans and presses our bodies together. The hard ridge of his cock presses into my stomach, and I moan as moisture floods my panties.
As my body caves in surrender, Wes cups his hands under my ass, lifting me so our hips are aligned. Pinned between his hard body and the wall, he guides my legs around his waist, pressing himself against my center as his tongue wrestles with mine.
It’s been eight long years since I felt the weight of a man’s body, and my own is tired of the drought. I rock my hips against him, desperate for the pressure of his cock against my clit. Even buried under our clothes, it damn near makes me come undone.
As if sensing my need, Wes pulls back slightly, replacing his cock with his hand, which has traveled underneath the hem of my sundress. He teases me over my panties, brushing his finger back and forth over my swollen flesh. His touch is feather light, delivering the friction I crave without letting my ecstasy overtake me. I’m so starved for this feeling, for him, part of me wants to linger here, basking in this euphoria for as long as my body can stand it. But part of me won’t be content until release claims me.
“More.”
Wes’s fingers dip inside my panties.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groans as he circles my clit with his slippery fingers, using my own need to drive me wild.
“And you’re hard.” I palm his cock over his jeans.
“For you,” he pants. “Only for you.” He takes his fingers out of my pussy long enough to undo his pants, then his cock is at my entrance, and he’s pushing inside me.
I cry out at the intrusion, but not from pain, although there’s certainly discomfort after years of abstinence. But there’s also pleasure, the sensation of feeling whole, which I’ve only ever felt when Wes was inside me.
He stills, kissing me senseless while he rocks his hips gently against mine to help me get used to him.
“It’s too much.” He breaks our kiss. “I have to move.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
That’s all the encouragement he needs, and he pulls nearly all the way out before thrusting in to the hilt. We both groan when he bottoms out, which only drives our sense of urgency.
Using the wall to help keep me in place Wes pounds into me, moving his hips like a piston to rub against my clit with each thrust. It’s urgent and carnal, nothing like what it used to be, but exactly what we need to satisfy the desperate need we have for release.
My poor body is so starved for relief that the spasms start to overtake me long before I want them to. But holy hell, they’re so powerful I lose the ability to control my limbs, and Wes has to hold my legs for me while I shatter on his cock.
“Oh shit, Sawyer. Fuck,” he cries. “I feel your…damn.” He rests his forehead against mine, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “I’ve never felt you like that before. It’s always been intense but never like…damn I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you. Thank god you came back to me.”
And with that statement comes the painful realization of what we’ve just done.
I lay my palms flat and push. Wes releases my legs and stumbles back, chest heaving.
“What…” He frowns.
“Don’t.” I hold my hand up.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t touch me again.” I drop my arm before Wes notices it’s shaking, and lean against the wall to keep myself upright.
