“I missed that sound so much,” I tell her as I scoot down and pull her Converse from her feet and throw them over my shoulder. I curl my fingers around the belt loop of her jeans and pull her forward. She gasps, her eyes wide with excitement and anticipation as I tug the zipper down, then yank the material down her legs. My gaze moves between her legs where she’s covered by delicate white cotton, and I groan.
I’m panting and shaking with the need to put my mouth there and taste her.
“Look at me,” she orders hoarsely.
My head jolts up to hers, and I swallow, my throat dry.
“I want to touch you.”
“Then touch me,” I breathe, spreading my arms wide.
She sits up and tugs the edge of my T-shirt up and over my head. I wait, my pulse thudding in my ears as I watch her take in my chest until her eyes pause on the spot just above my heart. Her gaze darts up to meet mine, then back to my chest as her fingers start tracing the words there.
“Grace, first & last. My beginning and my end,” she whispers the words quietly. To others, the quote might not make sense.
She looks at me again, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “When did you get this?”
“A few days after I left,” I say nervously. “I was a mess. I needed something that reminded me of you.”
Plus, I was drunk on pain and guilt when I walked into the tattoo shop. I remember the feel of the needle as the tattoo artist imprinted that quote on my skin. Remember the ache and pleasure, knowing I’d have a piece of her imbedded in me forever, even if it was only her name.
She leans forward and presses her mouth to the center of my chest, then on the words etched into my skin. Her fingers skim my spine, and I feel as though I’m coming out of my skin as they slide to the front and pull down the zipper of my jeans. I brace my hands on the bed and lift my hips. She pushes the jeans down, pausing to wrap her small hands around my ass and squeezing it before pushing them the rest of the way.
Suddenly desperation claws in my chest. The air around us sizzles with want for each other. Then we’re moving, pouncing on each other. Anticipation and need collide as soon as our bodies slam together. We’re hands and lips and heat. Grace is the match, and I’m TNT. I’m two seconds from detonating. And then her tongue brushes mine, and I explode. Lights burst behind my eyelids. Passion sizzles in my blood.
My hand cups her nape, moving up and sinking my fingers into her hair, holding her in place. Weeks of need, weeks of missing her, pour into that kiss. She pulls back a little and mumbles please, please, please, before she smashes her mouth against mine, and this time, I’m the one begging her.
We break apart, coming up for air. My eyes slowly open, and I stare into her beautiful face. How can a body as small as hers hold so much passion? So much heat?
I’m about to mesh my lips with hers to continue kissing her when her eyes open. She dazzles me with a wide smile before pressing her fingers to her lips. My body shivers with the weight of that smile.
I want more. I want everything. Now.
“Enough playing around.” I grab her hips and flip her to her stomach. I kiss her lower back along the spine, kissing the two small indents there before wrapping my body around hers. We both groan when I grind my hard length between her ass cheeks.
I gasp at the sensation, sparks shooting down to my toes. My grip around her tightens involuntarily, but the moan she lets out tells me she likes it. I thrust a few more times, our harsh pants filling the room like a carnal melody. I feel myself shake with restraint.
“Jesus, Sol,” Grace cries out, wiggling beneath me, trying to get even closer.
This feeling, this indescribable feeling of being skin on skin with her, touching her, her scent so intoxicating and real loosens my body. My shoulders relax as the tension I’ve been carrying since I left Portland, left her without even saying goodbye, melts away. My hips pin hers down at the memory of how miserable I’ve been without her.
How far would I go to experience this feeling over and over again?
The answer nearly knocks me off the bed, and it worries me. She shouldn’t be here in the first place. My body shouldn’t be wrapped around hers like this. If my spiritual director ever got wind of this, I’d be thrown out of school before I could even blink.
Yet here I am, risking it all for a few minutes in heaven.
I love his weight on my body, holding me down but not crushing me. Feeling his heated skin on mine is everything I’ve missed and needed.
I sink my face into the pillow and bite hard as Sol presses a hot kiss on the back of my neck. His warm breath feathers the hair there, causing goosebumps to spread all over my arms. His hands leave my hips and slide between my legs, nudging them apart.
“Spread your legs for me, Gracie.”
I do, almost crying in relief when a finger brushes my sex before sinking into the heat easily. I’m so wet with need, and knowing he’ll be inside me soon makes my back arch. He slides his other hand flat on my stomach and presses gently, forcing my behind up. He growls, seeming satisfied with the position. He continues working his fingers inside me at the same time the hand on my stomach falls away. His body disappears behind me, but before I can complain, I feel the head of his hard length prodding my entrance. He seems to hesitate, and once again, the warmth of his body disappears.
I lift my head and glance over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
He licks his lips, suddenly looking unsure. “I’ve only done this with you . . . what I mean to say is—”
“Me too,” I say quickly. “I’m still on birth control.”
“Wider, Gracie,” he pants huskily while nudging my legs, and I open, my thighs shaking with want.
He pushes inside me, pausing to ask me if I’m okay before proceeding inch by inch, making it last. Making it hurt so good. And when he’s finally fully seated inside me, my legs give way from under me, unable to hold my body up. I slump forward, and his body follows mine.
“Are you okay?” he asks, kissing my shoulder.
I can only nod because what I’m feeling right now cannot be put into words. I don’t even think there’s a way to describe it.
He shifts his body slightly to the side to ease some of his weight off me. His fingers find mine above my head and lace together to form a loose fist. Then he throws a strong leg over my thighs. With his large body draped all over mine, I feel small yet powerful. He begins to move, his mouth kissing my neck as he plunges in and out of me. I push back to match his thrusts as the storm that has been brewing inside us both since he picked me up gains momentum, the violence of it taking me by surprise.
Sol seems different than during our first time. He’s more intense, and he doesn’t need to talk dirty to butter me up. His body does that for him. And I love it.
Our bodies stretch and twist, molding into each other. We ignite and burn, sweat rolling down our skin. I feel the edge of his teeth on my shoulder a moment before he drags them across my skin. His fingers slide up from between my legs and flatten on my stomach, pushing me flush to his body as he pumps inside me with vigor. I can feel my body eager to let go and just soar.
“I’m coming, Sol,” I whisper, eyes squeezed shut.
Without a word, he groans and pants behind me as he increases his pace, body coiled tight around mine. Unable to hold back anymore, I cry out his name, and my body shakes with release. I hear him cry out my name in response over and over in a rough voice, then his body grows tight as he chases his orgasm.