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If I were more musically inclined, I could have written an entire symphony on the way her tits bounce as I fuck her.
Her body arches up as her pussy clamps down on my dick, ripping my orgasm out of me with the force of her own.
After I manage to come back down to reality, I roll off her and dispose of the condom.
In the short amount of time it took to get to my bedroom trash can and back, she’s fallen asleep.
As soon as I climb back into the bed, she gravitates to my side like a heat-seeking missile. And I do mean heat-seeking. Her hands are ice fucking cold.
If she were any other woman, I’d be pushing her off me. I’d maybe even leave to go sleep in the guestroom.
For some inexplicable reason, I make an exception for her and hold her tightly to me as I drift off to sleep.
14
AVERY
It’s not noise but rather the absence of it that wakes me.
There’s no giggling or repeated shouts of “Ma!” over the baby monitor. No toddlers have snuck out of their room to stand inches away from my face just waiting for me to open my eyes. It’s just blissful silence.
For a moment, I’m confused, especially since I’m in a much nicer bed than I’m used to. Then it all comes flooding back to me.
Last night was the first time in my life someone other than me managed to get me to come. I wasn’t expecting it to happen at all, but for it to happen multiple times? That was something I’d thought was the biggest element of fantasy in the romance books I read.
I’ve never been happier to be wrong.
What surprised me the most about last night, though, was how much I enjoyed myself.
Before last night, Kyle had been the only person I’d ever been intimate with, and the most complimentary thing I can say about it is that it was okay.
Most of the time, I’d get bored about halfway through and I’d end up thinking about what I was going to make for dinner or what new baking trend I wanted to try next. He never seemed to notice—or if he did, he didn’t care—that I wasn’t having a very good time.
He’d go down on me just long enough for it not to be as dry as the Sahara down there (which wasn’t nearly long enough). Then he’d take what he wanted from me.
When he was done, I’d head to the bathroom to shower, where I’d actually finish.
I’d grab my vibrator from its hiding place—a half-full box of tampons—and use the noise of the water and the bathroom fan to cover up what I was doing.
Kyle had told me that most men would never go down on a woman and I should be grateful he did it at all. He’d also told me that the vibrator I had made him feel inadequate so I needed to throw it out—which, as far as he knew, I had.
I was so young and so inexperienced when we got together that I thought it was normal. I had felt grateful he even bothered to make sure I was ready for him. Aside from the romance books I read, Kyle had been all I knew.
At least he had been until last night.
Wesley was like a shot of pure adrenaline—he restarted my heart and helped bring that part of me back to life. The only difference between me and someone in cardiac arrest was the length of time I’d been dead.
Even though he’d been bossy and demanding, he still made sure to check on me and make sure I felt safe and (relatively) comfortable.
That man had spanked my ass red, and somehow, there was more care in it than anything I’d experienced with Kyle.
When I’d read about things like that in my books, I’d been curious but wasn’t sure if I’d actually like it.
Now that I’ve gotten a taste of it in real life, I have a near pathological need to try out everything in that room with him.
I wonder if he’d be willing to do that with me.
An endless parade of worries marches through my brain.
