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I tremble, blissfully filled. “Fuck.”
Connor crushes our mouths together, igniting our passion again. He moves our bodies together, offering a guiding hand on my hips, showing me how to grind. I place a hand on the headboard to keep my balance. My nerves boil as I shift forward and back, feeling pleasant friction in all the right places.
“Keep that up and you’re gonna make me come,” he warns.
I don’t stop, the idea more than a little enticing. I’ve yearned to make him come again since the moment he burst on my tongue in the Beta Kappa laundry room. Fantasy drives me further and I roll my hips on my own, no longer requiring his helping hands.
A warm chuckle, but Connor doesn’t say a word to stop me, his head resting on the headboard. My body burns in new places, the movements somehow natural and unnatural at the same time. I kiss him, fueling the fire in me, drawing an aching groan from his throat.
“Dana,” he whispers, tight and strained.
“Do it,” I moan. “I want you to.”
We keep our eyes on each other as he comes, his eyes a warm jade. I caress him, hoping my touch leaves ripples on his body like his did for me. Here we stay for a minute — or two, maybe five. Time loses all meaning, our hearts and parts still entwined.
“You need a break,” Connor whispers, his words warm against my skin.
I smile, wonderfully taken care of. “So do you,” I say.
He nods in agreement, then slowly shifts. We move together on the bed, Connor pulling the comforter down and tucking me in before rising and taking a few steps toward the trash can next to his desk. He removes the condom and tosses it away.
“Does your mom come in here once a week and empty your trash like mine does?” I ask.
Connor nods. “I will dispose of it before they get back,” he says, reaching for one bottle of water.
After twisting off the cap, he offers it to me first.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a sip.
He takes it back, drinking down a fair amount himself before setting it aside and returning to me. He lies behind me, his arm curled around my waist, his hand resting softly beneath my breasts.
I look at him over my shoulder. “How’s the ink?” I ask.
“Stings like a bitch,” he jokes.
I pout, then kiss his cheek. “Sorry if I’ve made it worse.”
“I really, really don’t care if you did,” he says, kissing the edge of my mouth.
I turn into his kiss, a soothing comfort for my buzzing body. I’ll feel all of this in the morning, I’m sure of it. “Any lessons for after?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “Go pee.”
I laugh. “Ah, yes. I remember that one from health class.”
“Then, come back, get under these covers…” He nuzzles my cheek. “And prepare for round two.”
One more kiss and I slip free, scooping my dress off the floor as I rise. I shimmy into it before stepping out into the hallway. No way I’m going to wander through the Morgan’s house buck naked.
I close the bathroom door behind me. Standing in front of the mirror, I take the biggest breath I’ve taken all night and slowly let it back out. I study my reflection. Bright pink cheeks. My lips, plump and kiss-bruised. Hair in desperate need of a brush, but there’s something wildly sexy about it. And telling. If I were to walk through the quad of Chicago North right now, everyone would surely know.
That girl just had sex.
I laugh involuntarily. All these years of wondering what it’ll be like, I finally know. And it was everything I thought it would be, and more.
Because of him.
Connor Morgan loves me.
