Page 86 of All Our Nevers

Then she does it. Her tongue drags up my length, slow and wet. Then she’s taking me into her mouth and I can’t stop my moan, clinging to the headboard with all my strength. “Oh, God.”

She releases me with a wet popping sound that I’m sure I’ll hear in my dreams for the rest of my life, then asks, “And what else? Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

She crawls all the way up my body then, tormenting me with the perfect alignment of us. With my hands still clasping the wood of her bed frame, she’s in complete control as she captures my mouth, locking us in a searing kiss.

She pulls back only to ask, “Do you want to use a condom?”

And of everything that’s surprising about this night, this question is the most surprising of all. It never crossed my mind that Drill Sergeant Mercado, rigid and regimented, would even consider not using one.

“Do you want to use a condom?”

“I have an IUD, and I’m clean, but if you’d ra—”

“I’m clean too. I haven’t been with anyone since my last test.”

“Good,” she says, shocking me as she reaches between us, positioning me at her entrance, “because I want to feel you bare inside me.”

“Christ, Amelia, you can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?” she asks, swiping me through her wetness, teasing me, back and forth.

“Because I’m gonna come,” I breathe. “I’m gonna come before you even put it in.”

I lean forward, capturing her mouth with mine, but never removing my hands from the headboard. With my lips and tongue, I show her just how good I’ll make this for her, how badly I need to make her feel good.

Amelia benevolently responds to my plea, arching her back and sinking slowly down. She takes in an inch, then two, more, until she’s fully seated with me inside her. Our moans catch on each other’s lips. Her nails dig crescent moons into the skin of my shoulders.

We fit together perfectly.

Then she’s moving, taking me in slow, seductive strokes. Her hands trail up my arms, over the curves of my biceps and forearms until she reaches my hands. She locks her fingers over mine, reminding me not to let go. She’s completely in control and I’ve never experienced anything like it.

Our lips are a hair’s breadth apart, heavy gasps mingling together. My voice is all gravel and air as I say, “You feel amazing, baby.” I kiss her jaw. “So fucking tight, and so wet for me.” My lips trail messily down her neck as her pace increases. “I love—” I catch the words in my throat. “—how good you feel.”

And for a moment I think I’m losing my mind.

Sex has never been emotional for me. It’s a release, an escape, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted it to be. But now my physical desire for this woman is all tangled up with my need to make her happy, to be everything she needs in this world.

Does she have this effect on everyone? Or is she my personal kryptonite? Challenging and sexy and sharp-witted and God, maybe I really am falling in love with her.

She starts moving faster, and all I can do is experience it, let the pleasure wash over me, be grateful that she chose me, give her everything I can.

“God, you’re big.” Her nails scrape parallel lines down my chest, using it for leverage to rock up and down, claiming her pleasure. Her eyes are closed, and I can tell she’s getting closer with each thrust.

“You look… fucking incredible, Amelia.” I move my hips in time with hers, thrusting as deep as I can, but still a willing prisoner in this game of control and release.

She laces our fingers together on the headboard as she continues to ride me, her body stretched over mine. I lean up to suck one pretty nipple into my mouth, all teasing teeth and flicking tongue and I can feel her coming apart at the seams, getting impossibly wetter. I want her to come. I want to watch her fall apart, to be the one to get her there.

My voice is a scrape of urgency as I say, “Use me. Take what you want.”

She pulls up, then sinks back down, deep and hard and I need it, need it, need it. Then she says, “Why don’t you let go of the headboard and fuck me like you mean it” and I’ve never moved faster.

My hands tear from the headboard to grab her hips—all instinct and affection and crushing, driving need. I shift one thumb at her center, watching her move, hearing her moan, losing myself in the way we could be.

“You’re incredible, Lia. Everything about you.” My fingertips press ardently into her flesh. “Let me make you feel good, baby. I want you to come for me. Tell me what you need.”

“Keep talking,” she says, grinding herself against my thumb as she moves over me, riding our pleasure higher and higher. “Let me hear how much you want this.”