Page 119 of Goose

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Ally

“Closer,” I whispered. “I want you closer.”

“I can’t get any closer,” he replied. “I’m touching you.”

“I want all of you touching me.”

We’d been officially living together for four weeks, to the day. Sunday had become a day of household chores, cleaning motorcycles and cars, and making love. No matter what happened during the week, we always made time to make love on Sunday evening, before dinner.

He lowered his chest, pressing it against mine. I kissed him eagerly, devouring his mouth as if it was vital to my survival.

He wedged his hand between us and guided himself past my aching folds. As each inch penetrated me, my mind drifted further away.

He paused.

Our mouths parted. I gazed into his eyes. They gleamed with satisfaction. Filled with his entire length, I relished in the feeling of becoming so in touch with my love for him that I could feel it. In fact, my soul filled with it.

Our love making wasn’t simply sex. It certainly wasn’t fucking. With each stroke, we developed a stronger union. A more established bond.

We were making love. Manufacturing it.

His forearms slipped behind my back and his hands cupped my shoulders. Holding my body tight to his, he gave himself to me, one unbelievably incredible stroke at a time.

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my fingertips into the muscles of his back. Feeling him with my hands gave reassurance that he was real, and that what we were sharing was more than something my mind had simply conjured up.

I pressed my face against his chest and drew in his scent. He smelled like a man should smell. Not sweet or obtrusive. Defining it was difficult.

Masculine.

Irresistibly sexy.

The rhythmic thrusts that followed were exactly what I’d hoped for. I lifted my legs high in the air, giving him free access to what was rightfully his.

He took possession of my very soul. I closed my eyes. His charismatic aroma filled my nostrils. Euphoria filled me. I relaxed. Reservation escaped me. I held my face tight against his chest.

He lifted me to a state of climactic bliss and held me there. My body shook. My legs relaxed. With reluctance, I released my grasp.

Weightless, I floated, savoring the sense of elation that filled me.

In time, it diminished. Slowly, I floated back to the reality of the bedroom. I scanned the room before focusing on him. “That. Was. Amazing.”

He held my face between his hands and looked me in the eyes. “I love you.”

We kissed.

I never grew tired of kissing him. Each kiss brought with it an inarguable reassurance of our love for one another.

Our lips parted. “I love you, too.”

I worried for a lifetime that I’d never find someone who would love me without wanting to change me. A man who would accept me, as me. I never would have guessed loving a man could be so effortless, but it was.

All I had to do was be.