His kiss is hard and demanding. Like he’s claiming me. It’s different from the kiss we shared over six months ago. It’s not sweet, seductive, and promising like it was back then. It’s messy. Emotional. Purposeful.
His tongue comes out, parting my lips as we devour each other. He tastes like whiskey and mint. I’m sure I taste of wine and pizza. He sucks on my tongue. I moan into his mouth. His hands come up to grab my face, holding me in place as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away.
I won’t.
Wild horses stampeding through his apartment couldn’t get me to stop kissing him.
My hands are everywhere. On his neck. In his hair. On his back. On his ass. I can’t get enough of him. I’ve never touched him like this before. Not outside of my dreams—the ones that keep me warm at night and haunt me during the day.
Once he’s sure I won’t pull away, he allows his hands to explore. He runs them down my sides, then around to my back, and finally up to my engorged breasts. When he grabs them, he cries out, “Jesus, Lex.”
I’m ripping at his clothes like I want them gone yesterday. He’s pulling at mine as if we share a brain. Shirts come off, pants go down, material gets ripped. We don’t stop until we are completely naked, all the while kissing, touching, and feeling every inch of flesh we can reach.
I moan loudly when he reaches between my legs, dragging his fingers through my wetness and spreading it over my clit.
“Kyle!” I cry out when he rubs circles over my pulsating nub. I cry out again when he pushes a finger inside of me.
Never has it felt like this. Like my body is being worshiped instead of used. Like I’m giving a gift instead of obeying a command. I can’t stand it. I’m building so fast, I feel I’m going to explode.
I wrap a leg around him and he pulls me up into his arms, holding me by my ass as his penis throbs between us. I’ve never wanted anything so badly before. “Kyle, I want . . .” I can’t even explain it. I can’t articulate it.
“What do you want, Lexi?” he asks, running his tongue down the side of my neck over to my ear. “Tell me,” he whispers.
“Everything,” I say, breathlessly. “I want everything.”
He walks us over to the kitchen and puts me down on the back corner of the L-shaped counter. He holds my stare with his as he carefully lifts each of my legs to place them outstretched on either side of me. Oh, my God. I’m completely on display for him.
When he looks down at me, before he touches me there, he traces a finger over my C-section scar. I remember what he said last night about delivering Ellie; about being the first one to hold her, and I wonder if he’s remembering it too.
Then, when his mouth touches me, I shiver. Tingles race up and down my spine as he swirls his tongue around on me. He slides a finger inside me, then two. I grab his hair as he crooks them to find my sweet spot. “Oh, God,” I murmur over and over as his fingers work their magic.
His other hand reaches around to my backside so he can hold me against him when it gets so intense I feel I need to pull away. I find it completely erotic to look down on him and watch as he does this to me. Purely for me. For my pleasure and mine alone.
He brings me right to the edge of detonation, and then he pulls back, withdrawing his fingers; his tongue. My body is begging for release. “Kyle, please,” I plead.
He smiles as he resumes his ministrations. I pull on his hair, hoping he will hurry this along and let me come. I can’t take it anymore. The buildup, the ebb. But I need it to flow. I need it to flow like I’ve never needed it before. “Do it . . . please!” I yell.
He pulls back once again, looking amused. “Do what, Lex?” he asks with a crook of his finger.
“Make me come!” I shout. “Jesus Christ, Kyle, make me come already!”
He snickers, resuming his tongue on my clit where he licks, sucks and laves circles on it, making me pant and squirm. This time, however, when I reach the precipice, he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his fingers and circling my clit as I buck my hips into him. “Yes,” I breathe, holding his head tightly in place.
“Oh, God. Yes! Yes!” I scream at the ceiling as wave after wave, pulse after pulse, overcomes me, sending me spiraling off the cliff and into the crashing whitecaps below as they pound against me, toss me around, and churn me under until they finally let up and I can reach the surface and breathe once again.
I feel like I just ran a marathon. My breaths come fast and my legs are tense. I realize I’m still holding his head hard against me. “Sorry,” I say, releasing him.
“Don’t be sorry, Lex,” he says, standing up to come face to face with me. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Jesus.”
He wraps my legs around him and I grab onto his neck as he lifts me off the counter. He walks us across the living room. I think he’s going to take me to his bedroom, but he stops short.
“I can’t wait another second,” he says, pinning me against the living room wall, devouring my neck and shoulders with his mouth.
I reach between us to put my hand around his penis. Oh, God. It’s velvety soft. It’s hard as steel. It jumps, thick and ready, under my touch.
He breaks the seal his mouth has on my flesh to ask a question. “Condom?”
“I’m good,” I say, running my fingers up and down on him. “Nobody since him.”
“Me too,” he mumbles, finding my neck again with his tongue. “Nobody since her.”
I don’t even have the wherewithal to comprehend what that means right now. I’m too busy thinking about what his hands are doing to me. And how his fingers are touching me.
“Are you on the pill?” he asks, breathlessly.
Shit! Oh, my God. I didn’t even think. I know I’m nursing, but that’s no guarantee. “No.”
He puts me down and runs across the room, frantically rummaging through his pants to find his wallet. It’s almost comical to watch. He’s determined. Desperate.
He races back to me, quickly putting on the condom before he reaches me. I boldly jump back into his arms, needing to feel flesh on flesh.
“Now, Lex. Please.” His eyes, along with his words, beg me to give him entrance. So I do.
“Now,” I say, nodding my acceptance.
He holds me up, pressing me against the wall as he enters me. He takes his time, letting himself get used to me. Letting me completely open myself for him. When he’s fully seated, he quickly pulls out to the tip and then pushes back in. He does this over and over until I unexpectedly start building up again. But I can tell he’s holding back. He’s gritting his teeth. He’s concentrating hard. He wants me to come. Again. Me. Before he’s even had his.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say.
I don’t tell him I won’t come this way. That I never come this way. He’s using his hands to hold me up, and I’m too shy to use mine to help myself along.
“I’ll always worry about you, Elizabeth.”
I don’t bother to correct him. Maybe I’ll always be Elizabeth to him. I don’t even mind it when he calls me that. It reminds me of some of the best weeks of my life.
Then my thoughts become muddled and grey as he leans his head in and kisses me. He kisses me hard. He kisses me with tongue and I taste myself on him. It’s strangely erotic knowing where he’s been. His chest presses against my breasts, rubbing them as his thrusts become more demanding. He licks my neck, all the way around to my ear.
I feel my insides coil. I feel the familiar tug of impending release. Building. Building. Oh, God.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his hot breath flowing over my ear. “You feel so good, Elizabeth.” He grunts and thrusts. “Come with me.”
On his command, my body pulsates, burning from within as my walls squeeze him tightly. He shouts out as he explodes inside me, our words of ecstasy mingling together as we cry out in tortuous pleasure.
His knees buckle and he falls back onto the floor, careful to keep me on top of him. We lie like this, our chests pinned together, our hearts beating wildly, our breathing labored. We lie like this until my eyes grow heavy.
Maybe it’s the late hour. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the release he gave me—the two releases—that I’ve craved for so long. Maybe it’s a bit of everything. But the last thing I remember before falling off into slumber is him picking me up and carrying me.
That’s not true. The last thing I remember is how I feel in his arms. I feel safe. I feel loved.
I feel home.