Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
I panicked. “No! Don’t go.” I grabbed his arm and tugged him back to me, worried that if I was left alone, I’d start to think.
“I promise to come back. I just have to run to my room and get protection.”
“But if you go, I’ll be alone with my brain.”
He laughed. “Is your brain going to fuck you before I get back with a condom?”
“It might.”
“Okay then. You’re coming with me.” Without any warning, he swept me off the counter and into his arms.
I held on tight and squealed when he backed through the swinging door to the dining room. From there he burst into the downstairs bedroom. There were no curtains on the windows, and pale gray moonlight spilled through the glass onto a lone mattress covered with white sheets and a simple quilt.
The bed was made.
Why that broke my heart a little I don’t know—it was probably just a holdover from his military days. But it told me even more about him.
He knelt on the mattress and set me down on my back. “I’m sorry I don’t have a real bed.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
He ditched his jeans and grabbed something from a duffel bag on the floor. Facing away from me, he tore open the condom and put it on. Then he stretched out above me, and I opened my knees, spreading my feet wide.
He rubbed me with the tip of his cock—cooler now—and placing himself between my thighs. “Tell me if it hurts.”
He pushed inside me about an inch.
“Oh God,” I said.
“Want me to stop?”
I took his head in my hands and pulled his lips to mine. “Don’t you dare.”
He went slow, easing into me inch by inch, pausing to kiss my lips, my breasts, my throat. He whispered things to me—how beautiful I was, how warm, how wet, how tempting. It was hard to hold back, he said. It was near torture.
When he was buried deep inside me, I was stretched so tight and filled so fully I could barely breathe, let alone speak or think. Tears were a possibility. Screaming was imminent.
But oh, how I wanted him.
He began to move, a gentle rolling of his hips at first, a rippling of his body over mine. He captured my hands and pinned my wrists in an X over my head, rendering me helpless in a way I never even realized I craved. He made me want to touch him, then took away the power to do it, which only made me want him more. I focused on the contact points of our bodies—his cock inside me, his pelvic bone sliding against my clit, his stomach flush with mine, and his eyes.
More than anything, it was the eye contact that felt so intense. I knew, as a therapist, how powerful eye contact could be, but I don’t know if I ever realized how intimate it was—as intimate as him inside me. I felt him opening up, allowing me in, baring all.
Yes, it was my dream—my subconscious fucking his.
(Just let me have it, okay? Even if it wasn’t true, even if it was just a run-of the-mill lay between two lonely people on a mattress on the floor, lit by the moon because the windows were as bare as the rest of the house, I needed this moment.)
Our bodies fit together perfectly. Both tall, both strong, both long-limbed and agile. It was as if they spoke a language beyond words. When his hips moved faster, mine answered in kind. When his breathing grew ragged, mine echoed its sharp inhalations and shuddering sighs. When his body reached the breaking point, and he was unable to hold back for wanting me, I strained against him and put my lips to his ear, whispering words I’d only read in books.
“Come for me. I want to feel it. I want to—”
That was as far as I got before he groaned long and hard, his body going stiff above me. He buried his face in my neck, and I felt his cock pulse over and over again inside me. At first I was surprised it happened so quickly, too quickly for me to come again, but the next second, I was smiling. I was glad he couldn’t hold back. For the first time since I could remember, I liked feeling someone else’s orgasm. It hadn’t felt like a foreign thing happening in my body. It hadn’t felt like something I merely witnessed or tolerated. And it hadn’t come at the expense of my own. I’d been close this time. If we did it again tomorrow night—and I hoped we would—I felt like it might be possible.
“Jesus Christ.” Ryan’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Stella.”
“What? Why?”
He picked his head up, although it seemed like it took some effort. “I was too fast.”
“Fuck off,” I told him. “That was perfect.”