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Our bodies move together in perfect symphony.
It feels sooo good.
“Mindy,” he whispers my name against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Then he pulls his upper body away, slightly, his hardness still prodding at the apex of my thighs, and curves toward me, drawing the cup of my bra down so he can take my nipple into the heat of his mouth and suck at it, the pull of his lips working in time with the thrusts of his solid length against me.
“I can’t.” I pant. I can’t handle the pleasure, it’s too much and yet not enough. “Luke.”
He stops moving, immediately searching my eyes. “Is this okay?”
I nod. “I want more. I want to feel you. Take off yours.” I motion to his underwear.
His brows dip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We don’t have to do, you know . . . I want your skin against mine.”
He swallows once, hard, and then nods. Within seconds, his briefs are gone along with my bra, and his thick, rigid flesh slides easily through wet folds. We both groan, gasping with the sheer pleasure of it. His bare chest brushes against my breasts, the spattering of hair an erotic graze against my overly sensitive nipples.
Seconds later, another forceful orgasm crashes over me, throwing me into a bright swirl of bliss and ecstasy.
When I finally return to my body, Luke is still over me, his hips moving faster, his eyes intensely concentrated on my face, and then he’s crying out, his face contorting with the strength of his own release. He shudders, jerking, shouting out my name before collapsing his full weight on top of me.
He rolls away from me but doesn’t go far, grabbing his briefs to wipe his release off of both of us before pulling me into him.
We don’t speak for long minutes. We lay together, holding each other and catching our breath.
Finally, I brush a kiss across his collarbone. “That was the best non-sex I’ve ever had.”
He chuckles. “I came on you like a horny teenager.”
“I feel like a horny teenager.”
“I feel about as hungry as one.”
I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at him. “You didn’t eat before the show.” He was too nervous. “Do you have any food downstairs?”
“I think a frozen pizza?” His brows waggle at me. “You rest, I’m on it.” He slides away, sitting on the edge of the bed.
The muscles in his back flex as he moves and drags up his sweats. I take a minute to appreciate the broadness of his back, his narrow hips, and taut rear before they’re covered up with fabric.
“This view is spectacular.”
He twists around to grin at me. “I aim to please.”
For a few seconds we stare at each other, smiling. An unfamiliar sensation, a sort of soothing pressure, expands through me, making my heart nearly ache with it.
Then he stretches over me, capturing my mouth with his, nipping at my bottom lip before pulling back again. “I’ll be right back.”
He makes his way down the stairs and I stare after him, long after he’s disappeared from view.
He could really hurt me.
The unwelcome thought makes my eyes sting. I thought I loved Blake. But with Blake, the sensations were never so expansive, never this all-consuming.
I flop back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Is this a mistake? What if it ends badly?
This can’t last forever.
He hums, tinkering around in the kitchen. I don’t want to waste a second of our time together since I don’t know how much time we’ll have. Once we leave Whitby, that might spell the end.
