“Amazing,” I say on an exhale. His words echo around inside my head, inflating my pride. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life. “It wouldn’t have mattered where you touched me,” I say. “Even if you’d just kept looking at me the way you were downstairs, I would have come just as hard, probably.”
Alec laughs sleepily, and then his inhales grow deeper, his exhales transition from forceful to exhausted. He falls asleep all at once, like a gas flame extinguished, his mouth slack against my breast, arms wrapped all the way around my waist. I close my eyes and don’t have another thought until they drift back open again, nearly an hour later.
I stir in the tight confines of his embrace. We haven’t moved. It’s 2:37 a.m., and his skin under my hands is smooth and warm. I only mean to send a sleepy palm down his back, but he feels so good, and a little moan escapes. On instinct, his body makes a slow, deep thrust as he drags his cock against my leg. Alec pulls his face away, blinking sleepily up at me.
The intimacy of seeing his eyes open and the relieved smile he can’t help pulls a breath out of my chest. When our eyes meet, it’s like I’m a tuning fork that’s been struck—everything in me vibrates. It’s wild how immediately I want him again.
With a quiet, relieved, “Yeah?” he climbs up my body, coming over me, sliding hard and ready against where I am wet.
I’m just about to ask about protection when he kisses me once more and rises up. “Let me get something.”
I watch him leave, hear the sharp zip of his bag being jerked open. Frantic rustling. A tearing of foil, and I imagine a long snaking strip of condom packets spiraling from a box. I absolutely do not think about him traveling to LA with a full box.
Tension eases in me as soon as Alec returns, kneeling on the bed between my legs.
He curves a hand around my knee. “You good?”
I nod, reaching for him, and he tears the wrapper with his teeth. Gripping himself with practiced assurance, he rolls it on with a loose fist down his length.
It’s so erotic I have to look away, up to his face and the lip-biting focus he has as he shifts closer, leaning so he’s there, right there, just the tip of him in and out. He drags his gaze up my body, and it stalls at my mouth. But I need all of him, deep, as far into me as he can possibly go. With both hands I pull at his hips, but he comes into me in tiny increments, an inch forward, an inch back, teeth still tightly trapping his candy bottom lip. His brows are a portrait of focus as he moves barely deeper and then away.
He whispers a guttural “Oh, shit” the next time he shifts forward.
It is an absolute torture, and when he tilts his head up in a tiny gesture of hard-won restraint, the light catches a hint of sweat on his upper lip.
I don’t know why it’s this tiny detail that ruins me.
“Please,” I say.
He drags his attention back to my face, and then groans, closing his eyes. “I can’t look at you or I’ll lose it. I don’t want this to end.”
I laugh out a tight, hysterical sound. “I might actually lose my mind.”
His laugh is breathless, disbelieving. “I know. Me too.”
How? How is it like this? Is it because we know this is the only time, and it isn’t worth hiding? I grip that truth as tightly as I can; imagining that this is something more meaningful will only lead me to a dead end.
“I want you deep.”
Alec lowers to his elbows beside my head, sliding his kiss-swollen mouth over mine. “I know you do.”
I bite his lip, reaching for his ass to pull him deeper but he’s still set on taking his time getting started and makes me wait. Still teasing. Barely in. Barely out.
I want it so much it’s nearly painful. Dragging my eyes open, I catch him gazing heavy-lidded and desire-drunk down at me. And then his eyes fall closed as he pushes his entire body forward, going so deep into me that his chest rises over my face, his hand grappling for the top of the mattress for leverage.
I leave my body. Or maybe I am more aware than I’ve ever been that I am just a bright collection of a billion nerve endings, a mass of tissue and bones made to feel this kind of pleasure. Crying out, I work my hips up as he works deeper and deeper in, in a slow grind that quickly grows frantic, almost wild. I’m so wet, so ready for it, that I come within only a handful of these perfect thrusts, gasping for air and sanity, sending my hands up his body and into his hair.
He lets out a laugh of triumph, of disbelief, before covering my mouth with his.
I’m kissing him with everything I have, like he’s my anchor to this room and this world, and for a flash I wonder if something terrible has happened to me and this is my heaven, my salvation: in this bed with this man over me, working his body in and in and in and in.