Her open-mouthed smile locks in place and she lowers her gaze back to me.
“You’d hang my work in your house?”
It’s our house.
“I’d wear it on my body if I could,” I say. I’m chasing the feeling again, the intoxicating one that’s better than a high. This sensation comes only from sharing air, space and time with this woman. I haven’t truly inhaled in years. I’ve been starving.
Her eyes flit up to the loft.
“Is that your bedroom?” She lowers her gaze to mine.
“It is.”
My hands are still safely put away in my pockets, but my muscles twitch to rush at her. I can’t act on impulse, and I have to fight temptation. Every step we take has to be thoughtful. It has to stand on its own and have space before and after it. We have time.
“Can I see it?” She moves toward the floating staircase and I swallow hard.
“You may.” I breathe in deep and let her scale the steps on her own. I widen my stance as she climbs slowly, her hips counting the seconds with their sway. My view from here allows me to see her entire trip into my space. The loft doesn’t have walls, and my bed sits in the very center so when I sit up in the morning the first thing I see is the crest of mountaintops and blue sky—blue like Hannah’s eyes.
I hold my breath as her body roams my personal space. Her hand runs along the beam that divides the open vault from the landing, and her head falls back as she takes in the skylight cut through the ceiling.
“You can see the stars,” she says, her chin falling to her chest to reveal the look of wonder that’s taken over her face.
“You can,” I say, lifting my chin and shifting my weight, reminding myself why I’m down here instead. It becomes harder to stay the longer her eyes hold on to mine, and when she turns to face me, palms resting on the beam as she leans forward and lets her hair fall over her shoulders, I give in a step or two so I can keep our eye contact.
“Dustin.”
“Yes.”
I’m not going to make it.
“I miss you, too.”
I give in to the grin, letting it round my cheeks and stretch until my teeth show. I laugh nervously, a breathy laugh that accompanies my glance to the side. My head falls to my shoulder as I rotate my gaze back up and nod. We miss each other. Lost time is here to be found.
“I’ll be right up.”
Her lips part as I tug on the first button of my shirt. She falls back from the railing toward my bed as I slowly take the stairs, pulling open another button, finishing them all by the time I stand in the loft with her. I toss my shirt to the floor and move toward her, expecting her to back up during my approach, but she doesn’t. She holds her position, readies herself, and when my body crashes into hers, our mouths hungrily search each other out. Hannah’s hands sink into my hair and mine tug up the bottom of her shirt, gathering it up her midriff and over her breasts, and eventually head, as she raises her arms in the air.
Her hands fumble with the snap on my jeans, and mine work hers open, thumbs tugging down denim and the silk panties underneath. Her hips wriggle and I kick away my jeans and boxers while my mouth fights to devour more of her.
Her skin bare everywhere but the black lace around her breasts, I suck along the curve of her neck and walk her backward until her legs meet the edge of my bed. She falls back into my soft king-sized platform bed and I crawl above her, my arms caging her in, hands brushing against her cheeks as I move to kiss her more, kiss her harder, as if that’s possible.
Every break of our kiss is punctuated with a sharp breath, with panting and want, with desire and weakness. So much for going slow. I should have known that was impossible with this woman. We have too much history. We’ve waited too long.
My hands move to her shoulders and slide the straps of her bra down her arms. The lace rests loosely against the swell of her breasts and I drop my chin to her skin, my teeth grabbing the edge of the fabric and pulling it down her body. My nose grazes the hard peak of her nipple as I do and she arches her back, her arm covering her eyes as she moans.
I slip a hand behind her back to unclasp her bra, then move my mouth to the other breast, still covered in lace, and bite through the fabric, bringing that nipple to an even harder crest.
“Dustin,” she cries, and I’m empowered by hearing my name slip from her lips.
I toss the black lace to the floor and slip both of my hands behind her back, pulling her body up and into me so my mouth can suckle her harder. I want to make her tits raw with my need, to own them and eat them whole so they may never be able to be worshipped by any other man.
Her leg bends at my hip and my cock pulses at the invitation. My hand glides down her back to her ass, fingers digging into her soft, supple skin as I claw my way down her thigh and pull her leg up more so my hard-on presses against her wet center. The moment I do, she cries out, and it lights a forest fire inside my body.
“Stay here. Stay tonight. Stay tomorrow. Stay always. Just . . . stay,” I plead between kisses I drop all over her body. I kiss my way along her throat and back down her breasts, flicking the tips with my tongue as she writhes under my weight. My tongue draws a slow line down the center of her body to her stomach, small lightning-shaped scars in her skin marking the life she carried, the one we created together. I worship those too, and continue my path down to the soft, sensitive flesh between her legs. She reaches into my hair, grabbing fistfuls as my tongue traces the swollen folds of her center, her legs threatening to hold me hostage. I press her thighs apart and force her to take the brunt of my pleasure, licking her pink skin to near breaking point before stopping to admire her hungry, ravenous body as it squirms and grips at the cotton sheets beneath us.
“Goddamn, Hannah. I swear I only wanted to watch you sleep,” I say, lifting myself above her and meeting her eyes before bringing my forehead down to rest against hers. I squeeze my eyes shut, holding on by a thread to that ever-moving line.
“I know you did. But I wanted you. I want to feel you. I need to.” Her sweat plea, her soft voice, hoarse from passion, wrecked from pleasure, completely breaks my self-made code.
“God, I want to feel you, too. I want to be in you, now,” I groan.
Her hands grip at my sides, sliding down my hips and pulling me toward her. My chest heaves with one final breath, the last vestige of willpower, before I rock forward, my cock sliding into her sweet home. Even in the dark room I see sparks of light as I sink so deep into her that she moves up the mattress.
“Again,” she begs.
I oblige, rolling my hips again and sinking into her. My cock swells at the caress of her insides, her legs squeezing at my hips, her back arching as she bites her knuckles and gives way to complete and utter pleasure.
Her voice is a mere whimper, and I’ve succumbed to the growling beast inside.
My hand grips her thigh, pulling her right leg up as her other one wraps around my body, welcoming me deeper. I slide nearly all the way out each time, her body wet and pulsing more with every pass of my dick against her throbbing center. I crash into her again and again, and she lets out a loud cry of pleasure that I chase until I’m calling out her name and falling apart on my own.
I fill her completely, and wrap my arms around her as I collapse and roll us to our sides. My cock pulses inside her as it releases but remains hard and ready. Our bodies are sticky with sweat and sex, and the glass window overlooking the city and stars slightly fogs from the heat inside.