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“Just wait.” He slides his hands down to the arch of my back, then lower. “Have I mentioned you have a sexy ass?”
“No,” I giggle.
“I love watching you walk away.” His thumbs circle my butt cheeks, and the sensation makes me wet. “As long as you come back.”
His thumbs move lower, between my legs, and I exhale another moan when he wraps his fingers around my clit, giving it long strokes while his thumb tips into my core. He leans forward, tracing his lips up the line of my back, and surges of electricity follow in his wake.
I just came incredibly hard, but he’s fanning the lingering embers, bringing them back to life. He slides his hands to my waist, and I start to shiver.
“Roll onto your back.” It’s a low command.
Doing as he says, I sit up, meeting his lips before I lie down again. Cupping his cheeks, I hold him to me, inhaling his warm scent mixed with the herbal scents and the oil. He holds my back, leaning forward as he helps me recline.
When he straightens, he studies me a moment before tracing his palms around my breasts. “I love these.” Then lightly down my sides and over my hips. “So beautiful,” he muses, and I’m floating.
Mimicking my actions, he straddles my body, bracing his weight on his knees. His cock is thick and heavy over me, and I want him so much again. He moves lower, down my legs before sliding his flat tongue up and down my clit. I exhale a moan.
His tongue continues circling, and the heat in my belly bursts into flames. It won’t take much after his deliberate strokes, his careful caresses. His palms are on my hips, and when my orgasm breaks, he rises up, kissing me and parting my legs.
Thrusting his hard cock arches my back off the blankets. I rotate my hips, working his cock in my core. His fingers massage my clit, and I’m screaming with pleasure. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been, and the touch of his hands, the hardness of his cock, the sound of his moans… it’s transplendent.
I’m aware of everything, his strength, his bare skin, our movements like we’re dancing to our own primitive music. My muscles flutter and spasm, and I whimper as my orgasm vines through my legs and up through my stomach.
He thrusts two more times before holding, eyes closed, body rigid as his cock pulses, again filling me with climax.
Reaching forward, he lifts me in a firm embrace. Strong arms hold me, and our hearts beat loudly as one. It’s the most intense experience I’ve ever had.
21
Zane
“Are you a Buddhist?” Rachel’s cheek rests against my chest, and she traces her finger along the black and white lines of the Taijitu symbol on my sleeve.
We can’t seem to keep our hands off each other. We’ve had sex in almost every room in Miss Gina’s house. We had sex in the pool, on the massage table, in the library against the stacks. She offered to help me work on the elevator and ended up straddling my lap on the bench inside it.
Hanging out at Cooters & Shooters, I caught her making eyes at me from across the kitchen, and we ended up fucking in the bathroom with her bent over the sink. We’re like rabbits on steroids.
Tonight, I’m in her bed, and we’ve set an alarm for early tomorrow morning, Tuesday, before Edward wakes. We’re taking him for a horseback ride before I head to Miss Gina’s to fix that elevator.
She’s not allowed to come to the house today. I have to getat least one thing done before Miss G returns from visiting her family.
Frowning, I watch her slim finger tracing the circle tattoo on my arm. The taijitu is the yin-yang symbol. It expresses how there’s always a drop of dark in the good… but the reverse is also true. In all the darkness, there’s still light. She’s the light.
She asked if I was a Buddhist.
“A little.” I confess.
“How can you be a little Buddhist?” Her nose wrinkles, and she lifts her chin.
Gazing down into her pretty green eyes, I think about those dark days after my accident, how hard I spiraled. “When we lost Mom, then Dad so fast, it was like a hurricane came through, wiping out everything.” Her brow furrows, and her eyes fill with concern. “Then when it felt like we’d managed to rebuild, when things were getting better, I hurt Dylan.”
“It was an accident,” she whispers, circling her fingers around my forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I ended her career, something she’d worked for all her life.” My stomach twists, and I swallow the ache in my throat. “Football was the one thing I could control. I worked hard, I made every goal. I got a million-dollar contract, and I tried to hide from the pain by being the best on the field. Then in one bad play it was all over.”
The words settle around us. The soft click of the heating unit breaks the silence. I remember lying in that hospital bed alone.
“You were hurt so badly.” Her voice is quiet.
