Page 13 of Josephine and Clay

“Wait,” he rasps. “Let me.”

I’m so close now.

I want to say his name, but all that comes out is a gasp, a clipped “don’t…” before the words break apart on another wave.

He holds my gaze the entire time, and the steadiness in his eyes, like we're the only two people who have ever existed in a bedroom before, undoes the last of my resistance. I feel it coil at the base of my spine, then snap.

My body shudders, arching off the mattress, a sound ripped from me I hope never echoes back off these walls.

He slows, rides it out with me, lets my body have its way. His free hand releases my wrist, and I immediately grab his shoulder, fists full of muscle and skin, dragging him down to kiss me.

It feels like claiming him, in some ridiculous animal way. I want him inside me. More than that, I want the memory of this to be something I can keep for myself when the dust settles, and he’s long gone.

“I want you, Clay,” I groan between his lips.

He lifts up and holds, and in that moment, I see that tilt to his mouth; the hesitation because he’s checking one last time to be sure this is what I want, and then I’m reaching for him, greedy, breathless, pulling him in.

The stretch makes me gasp.

It’s a shock, a jagged crackle of sensation that wipes my brain clean, makes everything white out. He fills me in a way that’s unignorable, thick and perfect and more than I expect.

My hips jerk up without meaning to, chasing every inch, needing all of it, and suddenly there’s no more space between us, no more room for doubt.

I love the way he thrusts deeper into me. Like it’s the answer to a question he’s been asking all night, and now that he has it, he can’t get enough. A ferocious rhythm that makes me want to forget there was ever a time before this.

My nails dig into his back, dragging red lines over muscle, and he only groans, pinning me harder as he ruts deep, each thrust knocking the breath from my lungs.

I lock my ankles around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer.

There’s a greedy satisfaction in his stutter when he slides in all the way, in the way his hands clamp my jaw, demanding my eyes on his.

The look he gives me, ravenous and wild, sends a shiver straight through my core, and I know that I’m going to come again. I’ve never gotten off this fast with someone.

I try to hide it, biting down hard on a whimper, but there’s no point. Clay reads it in the way I claw at him, in the way my body shakes. He reaches down between us, thumb finding my clit and rubbing circles with such perfect, intense pressure that I forget how to breathe.

The edge blindsides me. Hot, bright, so good it hurts. I shudder, back arching, clutching him so hard I think I might bruise him.

He keeps fucking me, chasing his own finish. That makes me want to bear down, milk every last drop of friction from him.

I see the moment he loses it. Face tight, eyes squeezing shut, a sound that’s half growl, half gasp.

He comes hard, shaking, biting out my name against my neck, and I shudder again from the sound of it, a ripple that leaves me shaking and gasping, clutching at him, not wanting to let go.

We lie there, sweat cooling, chests heaving, his hand on my thigh, like if we don’t move maybe this moment can stretch out a little longer.

I listen to his heartbeat against my ribs. I listen to the rain start up again outside, a soft drum on the roof. I listen to myself, to the silence where usually I’d find embarrassment or regret or the sudden urge to kick someone out, but there’s nothing.

Just warmth, pleasure, and the giddy, stunned sensation of having said yes to something, for once, and not immediately needing to explain to myself why.

CHAPTER THREE

Clay

APRIL 22ND

I wake up to noise.

It presses in before I even open my eyes. Voices layered over each other, something clattering, a kid laughing too loud for this early in the morning. The kind of noise that fills a place completely, leaving no quiet corners to hide in.