Page 75 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

She releases me with a twist of her tongue that drives me wild. I’m a teenager again, on the verge, unable to control myself around her. I grip my shaft. Give it a strong squeeze.

“There’s a condom in the top dresser drawer,” I rasp.

She doesn’t go for it, though. She stands and rubs her hands all over me, exploring my back, bringing our naked bodies flush. My dick is trapped against her stomach, pleasure gripping me in hot pulses.

“I’ve been tested,” she says, trailing kisses up my neck.

I may be in dumb-male mode, blinded by lust, but I’m not a complete idiot. I understand her meaning instantly, and here’s the thing. I was wrong before. My dick’s never been this hard. One wrong move and it actually might snap. “So have I. I’ve never been with anyone bare. You’re on the pill?”

“It’s fine,” she says, wrapping her hand around my length, cutting off my ability to think.

Yeah, sure. It’s fine. I’m fine. Sinking into Delilah Moon bare, with nothing between us, won’t short-circuit my brain.

She leads us to the bed and crawls into the center, beckoning me to follow. My dick listens. My whole body listens. My shaft is heavy with the weight of expectation, my balls drawn up tight. Every inch of my skin is oversensitive, like I could conduct electricity with every hard, sharp pulse of my heart. Delilah takes charge, rolling on top of me, sliding her wet pussy down my cock, biting my nipples the way she remembers I like, charting my developed six-pack, nipping at my hip bones, then guiding me to her entrance.

I grip her hips. Because yeah. I need another moment, a breath to calm down before I embarrass myself. Delilah settles her hands on my pecs, runs her fingers through my sparse chest hair, then rocks her pelvis slightly, trying to lower herself. The tip of my cock is right there, nudging her, barely pressing through her hot flesh, and my dick pulses. Along with my full-body buzz, emotion crowds my throat, stings the backs of my eyes. I push in an inch farther, and I have to bite my tongue.

“E.” My name whispered from my girl. “Go all the way in.”

I’m not sure she understands what she’s asking. I’m losing myself here, remembering so much, clinging to the past and locking her into my future. Once we’re flush, she’s mine. There’s no going back, no matter her troubling secrets. And I can’t hold out any longer.

I thrust up as she pushes down.

“Fuck.” I think I came a bit. She’s so hot and wet, contracting around me, obliterating my senses.

“Jesus.” She moans. “You are bigger.”

“I . . .” Am having trouble forming words other than fuck and yes and so hot. “I wouldn’t lie about something so vital,” I finally choke out.

She looks down at me, something like mischief sparking in her eyes. “We’re having the Sex, E.”

I always knew she’d remember that line, but we never had the time for her to tease me about it. It’s even better like this, being inside her, both of us comfortable enough to joke the way we joke, no fake veneers or roles left to play. “We’re not having the Sex yet, Mars. This is foreplay.” I alter my angle, push deeper, grind harder. A blast of heat sears my thighs.

“God, yes.” Her lips part in a sexy pout. She sets a rhythm and angle that allows her to rub against my pelvis, her hands gripping my chest, her body undulating, taking me deeper. I tense my thighs and rock with her, using the bed’s bounce in our favor.

“I’m close.” Her eyes flutter shut, her movement getting looser, faster. “So close.”

I don’t break the rhythm. I want her falling apart around me, rubbing herself all over me, covering me in her scent so I can walk around like a caveman telling every living soul Delilah Moon is mine. She doesn’t shout when she comes. Her body coils tight, her pussy clamping so hard I almost shoot off, but I don’t. I’m not ready for this to end.

When Delilah opens her eyes with a blissful smile, I say, “Now we’re about to have the Sex.”

I flip us over, lift up on my knees, raising her pelvis with me. I plunge back in. We both cry out. The bed bangs the wall. I’m beyond making love. I’m fucking Delilah Moon because Delilah Moon asked to be fucked in this bed, and a good woman deserves to be thoroughly fucked. I’m also in love and still angry and so thankful, a thousand emotions pouring out of me as my hips slam into hers, bouncing her tits, our skin slapping as we grunt.

I drop my weight on her, needing more. Us, closer. Lips. Tongue. Teeth. Messy kisses with our hands tugging at each other. Her breathing picks up. My vision clouds at the edges, points of pleasure gathering so tight I can’t contain them. I feel her come again—that contracting pulse of her inner walls, her body going rigid, the quietest “God” panted in my ear—and I lose it. My orgasm barrels down on me, shakes my body, pouring out of me in violent bursts I can’t control.

I’m panting afterward, sweaty, propping my weight slightly, but I’m all over Delilah, kissing her again. Desperate, hungry kisses like we didn’t just have the most intense sex of my life. When it comes to Delilah, I doubt I’ll ever have enough.

TWENTY-FIVE

Thank you, Life.

TWENTY-SIX

Honestly. I have no clue what tipped the scales. Life is not only on my side, but the bastard has become my wingman, obliterating obstacles left, right, and center, giving me a clear path to my end goal: Delilah. Like right now, there is literally a clear path between me and where Delilah’s standing. The wedding invitees are milling in the reception area beyond her, waiting for the outdoor ceremony to commence. She’s talking to a waiter about cakes or tarts or cupcakes or cuptarts. I don’t care. All I know is there’s nothing stopping me from walking up to her in front of every single person here and kissing her silly.

Except I’m not sure it’s cool.

We made love two more times this afternoon. The last time melted my brain. It was the type of slow sex where each breath-stealing drag burns you up from the inside out, neither of us moving faster, just rocking together in the sexiest slow dance in the history of slow dances, with me coming in long hard streams from the sheer force of our connection.