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He held out his hand for the packet.
But I didn’t hand it to him. I wanted, noneededto take this next step with him. “Can we not this time?” I asked holding the packet aloft. When his eyes widened, I added, “I’m on the pill. And I don’t have—”
He yanked me toward him before I could finish. “I’m clean too. Remember, nothing you’re not comfortable with. Are you sure?”
I lifted a leg over and reached down to place him at my opening. “Absolutely.” Swatting away his hands on my hips, I took him deeper and deeper with a series of small strokes until I settled down to the root of him. I was the opposite of empty now, the very definition of full—filled by my lover’s cock and our mutual desire.
He sucked in ragged breaths of approval, grunting out my name and staccato compliments. When he called me beautiful, it felt real, sincere. Nothing mattered in the moment except that I was no longer empty, no longer missing that piece of him that completed us as a couple.
All the while, I watched the tensing of his jaw, the straining of his neck, the jagged breathing, all the signs that he was already as close to the end of his rope as I was. He hefted the weight of my breasts, his thumbs and fingers circling and tweaking my nipples in the ways he’d learned drove me crazy. It wasn’t fair that he already knew me so well.
I slid up and down his hard length, first slowly then faster, watching the tightness in his jaw, feeling him tense under me as he neared his limit. He brought his hands to my hips and urged me forward and back, grinding me against him exactly where I needed the friction. Sparks radiated from my little nub. A thumb joined the action, and he circled and pressed as he thrust deeply up into me.
I shuddered with each masterful stroke. No man had owned my responses the way Boone did. No man had played me like a maestro the way he did. We were both chasing an orgasm as bright as the sun.
His other hand stayed busy squeezing my breast as the press of his thumb sent me to the edge. With hooded eyes, a clenched jaw, and rough grunts, he looked and sounded like a god lost in the throes of passion.
I clenched my inner muscles around him, pinched his nipples, and clawed at his shoulders, watching his reactions and learning what drove him closer to the edge.
“I love it when you look at me like that,” he grunted between thrusts.
“Like what?” My words were mere breaths.
“Like you’re trying to figure me out. Like I’m the most important puzzle for you to solve.”
Not only did he fill me, he got me as well. I thrived on puzzles, and bringing him pleasure was the most important one of all. “You said,” I panted, “you wondered what could have been.” I hadn’t meant to say the words.
“I can’t hold off any longer,” he panted. “I need you with me.”
With another expert stroke of his thumb, he proved who was in control, and it wasn’t me. I hurtled over the edge and came apart as if on command. No, not a command, but a plea of desire, and one I felt as well.
My slick walls convulsed around him as I collapsed forward for a kiss to seal our union. His hands came to my hips, levering me down as he slammed up into me, once, then twice, and on the third thrust, he held deep and shuddered, meeting me there as the waves of my orgasm mellowed.
I kissed his neck and held on tight as the pulses of his cock releasing into me ebbed.
“Fuck, Angel,” he panted into my ear. “You have no idea how you make me feel.”
Yes, this is what we’d missed in the years since our debacle. “If only I’d…” I started, looking for the words.
“We don’t,” he breathed, still panting from the exertion, “look back. We only look forward.” He was giving me an out. I didn’t have to acknowledge my part in things.
Nodding, I accepted it. I didn’t know how to put into words the regret I felt over not having fought for us. I’d given up instead of confronting the situation. If I’d demanded an explanation from him at the time, we might have straightened it all out instead of hating. It hadn’t been entirely his fault. We both bore the responsibility of not getting the facts out in the open. A tear escaped my eye and landed on his neck.
He started to shift me off of him. “Did I hurt you?”
I resisted and lifted up enough to rest my elbows on his chest and look him in the eyes. “No, silly. I’m happy crying, not sad crying. It’s hard to not look back a little.”
He pressed a finger to my nose and tapped. “Only this once. From now on, forward only.” He bopped my nose harder this time. “Got it?”
“Got it,” I said settling my head on his chest. I refused to move, now that I was no longer empty, no longer missing that piece of him. In a minute I’d have to let his cock slide out, but until then I’d listen to the thrum of his heart and relish the connection.
He rubbed my back in long, slow strokes and kissed the top of my head with a tenderness that threatened to make me cry again. That’s when I realized we’d shifted from having sex to making love. I lifted up and kissed his chest lightly, ready to admit my truth.
“What’s that for?” he asked before I could utter the three little words that had been on the tip of my tongue.
“Just for being you,” I answered. There’d be time for those words later.
“Why this place?” I asked when he returned with a warm washcloth for me.
