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For a moment we lie quiet, Drew curled around me, his cheek against mine, the corners of our lips touching as we pant. Slowly, I come back to myself, aware of his fingers stroking my shoulder and the pulse of his cock within me.
It’s so quiet that when he whispers in my ear, my whole body shivers from the sound. “You’ve destroyed me, Anna Jones.”
I know exactly what he means, because he’s destroyed me too.
twenty-one
Anna
Beneath the covers where it’s warm and quiet, we can’t stop touching each other. Nothing obvious, just small caresses. A stroke of a finger along a shoulder, a tickle down an arm, a brush of lips across a temple.
We’re face-to-face. Drew’s arm snakes under my neck and wraps around my shoulders, holding me close enough that we share the same air, our legs threaded together in a hot tangle. I don’t want to move. I want to keep my hand where it rests upon his sweat-damp chest and feel his heart’s steady rhythm. I want rest. I feel like I’ve been running forever.
“Congratulations again on your win tonight.” I speak in hushed tones, not wanting to rupture the fragile little world we’ve cocooned ourselves in.
Drew’s answering smile is one of lazy satisfaction. His big, warm hand curls protectively around my neck and his thumb traces my jaw. “It was the sweetest win ever.”
Slowly he pulls me in. His smile grows, even as he gives me an easy, butter-soft kiss. He hums and does it again before easing back. “I finally got Anna Jones to let me kiss her.”
His words take a second to sink in, and then I snort. “Dork.”
Drew chuckles low, but he’s kissing me again, soft, seeking little kisses, like he’s memorizing my lips with his.
“Am not,” he murmurs against them. “You think winning a football game compares to that victory? Please.” The tip of his tongue touches the corner of my smiling mouth before his lips follow. “You must be crazy, Jones.”
His hard cock is a silken weight brushing against my side. And then he’s rolling over onto me, slipping his hips between my spreading thighs. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and sigh. “Well, someone’s crazy,” I say. “That’s for sure.”
“Mmm.” Drew kisses my neck, my jaw. “Someone is,” he says at my ear, making me shiver and hold on tighter, as his hips rock gently, sliding along the wetness of my sex.
He’ll soon sink into me. But not yet. He likes to tease. And I love it when he does.
In the lambent light of the lone bedroom lamp, his eyes are dark gold. His touch is achingly tender as he brushes a knuckle along my cheek. “Kiss me, Anna,” he whispers, his lips inches from mine.
And I’m lost. My hand feels too heavy, shaky as I reach out to thread my fingers through his silky hair and pull him down. My mouth moves over his, slow, searching, pouring everything I am into him.
He responds with a little moan, his hips lifting, and then he’s sinking back into me. Filling me up.
“Again,” he demands as soon as the kiss breaks.
So I do. I kiss him as he works me, until we’re both too weak to do anything more than hold each other, reduced to a shivering pile of exhausted limbs and mouths.
And when he threads his fingers through mine and whispers “Stay.”
I do.
Drew
I’m exhausted. Long into the night, Anna and I reached for each other. I’d drift off to sleep, only to slip out of it when smooth hands slid over my ass or a hot tongue licked along my neck before traveling down. Anna, once satisfied, would sigh and fall asleep, all warm and soft against me, my hand cupping her full breast. I’d be unable to resist playing with her nipple, flicking and gently pinching it until she squirmed and turned in my arms with a murmured, “Again?”
Yes, again. Until we couldn’t move anymore.
In the early morning hours, I slept with her warm weight against my side, her hand upon my chest as if keeping my heart guarded and safe. The simple act of sleeping has never been so good.
When we had to wake, I greeted her with kisses. Anna rewarded me with a wide smile and wrapped her legs around my waist to hold me there as we shared lazy kisses.
Now, after leaving her sleeping under my covers and taking a long, hot shower, I’m in the kitchen, knees weak and cock sore, my hands mildly shaking as I attempt to make scrambled eggs. I am failing miserably. When they turn brown and clump together in hard balls, I curse and shove the pan off the burner.
“Toast,” I mumble to myself. “I can do toast.”
