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“Fuck, I missed you.”
I didn’t have the wherewithal to contemplate the reverence I heard. Suddenly I was on my back and my world narrowed to Wilson and his dick driving deep, his strong hands under me lifting my ass off the bed, his weight pressing me onto the mattress. I was completely mindless with pleasure. No longer reaching for my orgasm but drowning in it. Over and over I pulsed around him. The tremors made it impossible for me to do more than lay there and take his punishing thrusts.
“Christ. Nothing feels as good as you.”
Wilson sank his teeth into my shoulder blade and stilled.
My eyes closed as I absorbed the power of his orgasm. His dick twitched and jerked as he exploded with a muffled groan.
I’d never felt anything like it.
Long moments later when he pulled out and came up on his elbows, I understood why.
He was leaking out of me.
“Didn’t use a condom, baby.”
No, he didn’t.
Shit.
“I’m on the birth control shot but I always use protection. Nothing’s a hundred percent.”
“You have nothing to worry about from me.”
That was great and all, but…
“Are you always safe?” I pushed.
“Well, not always.” He gave me a wry smile. “But I haven’t had sex without a condom in over a decade. My physical was a few months ago and I’m clear.”
Phew.
“Okay.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom.” I paused to return his smile. “Except of course with you. I go every three months for my shot and during the last visit I had a very unnecessary STD test since I hadn’t had sex since my last test. And there hasn’t been anyone but you since that test.”
God, why was talking about health tests and sexual partners so freaking embarrassing? It shouldn’t be, yet it was.
And it was made worse when Wilson tipped his head to the side and studied me.
“What?” I snapped.
“Just trying to puzzle out how a woman as beautiful as you who goes wild at the slightest touch could go without sex for as long as you did.”
“Easy. Sex was boring. And I don’t go wild.”
“Princess, all it takes is me kissing you and you light up.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Smug bastard.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? You’re good with your mouth.”
“My poor Atlee,” he tsked.
