Page 89 of Drifter’s Heart

Bliss rolls over me, urgent and indulgent all at once. My cry strums the silence between us filled with panting breaths and unspoken endearments. West presses against me, my swollen flesh opening, more than ready as he sinks inside me.

I grip his cock tight, sheathing him as he presses all the way to the hilt. My moan strangles in my throat as I pulse around him, and he bears down on me. My legs buckle but he’s there, holding me up one-handed, like my weight is nothing to him.

West’s thrusts are steady, long withdrawals designed to let us breathe. When he fills me again, my hands flare on my thighs. Blunt nails rake the back of my leg, slow and torturous, until I’m on my toes so the sensation never ends. His breath huffing against my back is the closest thing to a laugh I know he’ll give me tonight. I need more of what he gives me.

Please let there be so many more nights like this. Let me earn them with him.

Whatever I need to give him for this kind of adoration and love.

My heart splits as I find his hand with mine, entwining our fingers and gripping him tight, trying to communicate everything I feel. This is so far from just sex, more than anything primitive and mating or some kinky, dirty night, that my chest feels overfull, like it could explode on demand.

And West is there for me.

His hand closes tight on mine like he’ll never release me. I cling to him as his thrusts increase, letting him rail me. I hope he doesn’t have neighbors, as my whimpers and cries fill the room in a symphony. I clench about him, drawing him deeper as my orgasm rushes through me, too fast to savor. As though being safe with West is everything I need to finally breathe and just…

Let go.

His hand clamps around the back of my neck, and he seats himself deep inside me. Everything whites out or darkens. A void born of sensation and overwhelm, and him.

Hands on my neck and hips, clamping me tight like he’s so deeply embedded in me that we will never part. I rock back, needing him deeper, taking the heat where he inscribes his mark on me. Never wanting this moment to end.

Wanting more of them.

West’s mouth seeks mine, twisting me to kiss him. I arch as he demands, giving him everything as he invades my mouth, opening for him, my ears ringing with his strained roar that shatters our unspoiled promise.

My name, over again, into the silent night as I fall, but he’s already on his knees.

To catch me.

TWENTY-NINE

WINNIE

Dawn Is Quietest

West is warm when I leave his embrace. His face is less harsh in the soft light. Fewer deep lines around his mouth, smoother fine lines near his eyes. My fingers flutter at my sides in need to stroke his skin, but waking him isn’t my goal.

He’s finally asleep, and it would be cruel to wake him.

Almost as cruel as leaving without saying goodbye.

Instead, I dress, steal one of his hoodies from his suitcase, and duck out of his bedroom to collect my boots and phone.

And at his doorway, I blow him a kiss.

I’ll apologize the next time I see him. Maybe send a sappy message or five.

My shift doesn’t start for a few more hours, but he’ll know that too. I need to relieve Lanie of her babysitting duties, get Sally off to school. And then answer all the questions they’ll both ask.

If I leave now, I can stagger those answers I don’t want to give.

If I leave now, I can delay telling West what I’ve figured out overnight.

That I want him to stay with Sally and me. That I want him around for longer than just a fling for a few months while we both negotiate what our future together might look like.

Maybe if I hold off for a few more hours, I’ll find my courage and fess up. Or maybe not.

How much can I fit into a text message?