He tore at the packaging with his teeth and pushed back off the bed, standing on his knees above me. My fingers rounded the swell of my breast and my other hand reached for my clit as he slid the condom on, his hands rolling, the length of him straining as he stretched the condom over himself. It felt forbidden, watching him in the moonlight, every inch of him hard and dark and pulsing with want.
He fell back on top of me, tongue circling the nipple I played with before moving my hand away and sucking it between his teeth. I arched into him and he slid one arm under me, pulling me closer, the tip of him lined up at my entrance.
Just a push, an inch, the slightest shift and he’d be inside me, and everything would change.
He seemed torn between taking his time and exploring me or giving into the need we both felt, so I used my heels to pull him in, just a centimeter, tightening around him as he cursed into my chest.
I knew just from the sight of him that he was the biggest I’d ever had, which wasn’t saying much since I’d only had two before him, but even still I wasn’t prepared for what he’d feel like. His arms slipped under my shoulders, hands holding on and pulling closer as he slid inside me. I tightened, gasping, vision invaded with a black blur at the fullness of him.
“Goddamn, Wren,” he breathed, sliding out slowly before rocking in again. I clawed at his back, desperate to feel more as he stretched me open for him. When he pushed up from the bed, grabbing my hips and thrusting inside with more depth, I cried out, hands flying to grip the sheets again. I needed something to hold onto, something to pull into ecstasy with me.
Anderson’s hands dug into my hips, thumbs pressing where my legs spread for him and pulling me into him with each flex. When I reached for him again to pull him down, he wrapped his hands around my wrists and pinned them above my head, pushing them into the pillows as his mouth crushed to mine again.
I loved the way he took control, the way he made me feel small and desired and irresistible. I’d felt it downstairs, how he’d wanted to walk away but he couldn’t. He kissed me hard, sucking my lip between his teeth before letting it go on a pop and kissing his way down my jaw to my neck, his hips still working in steady rhythm with his mouth. Every kiss was the hot head of a branding iron, marking me, peppering me with burns that would remind me of this night forever.
Hands still wrapped around my wrists, he flipped us, pulling me to straddle him before he released his grip. My hands weaved into my hair as I moved, thighs tensing as I lifted until just his tip was inside me before pressing back down. Anderson cursed, his voice low and desperate, calling to the orgasm I felt building. He was even deeper this way, my legs spreading wider as I rode, and when his thumb moved to my clit it was too much.
I buckled, shaking as I moaned out my release. It hit me with the force of a hurricane, Anderson’s voice muffled as he called out my name and sat up, pulling me closer, his arms wrapped all the way around me and my clit still rubbing against his lower abdomen as I rode out the wave. He came with me, head buried in my chest as I moved slower, taking him deeper, and when he pulsed out his release he whispered my name again.
I threaded my fingers into his hair, both of us breathing heavy as we slowed, our bodies slick where each inch of us connected. He held me there for a moment, still inside me, our hearts calming, then he gently laid me back on the bed.
I curled into him as he pulled out and wrapped me in his arms, holding me close, like he still needed me. So I stayed, holding him too, letting him know I was there.
I had almost drifted off when I heard my phone ring from downstairs, and my eyes flew open, heart sprinting to a gallop in two seconds flat. I knew it was ten o’clock, and I knew it was Keith calling, and I knew I should have felt some type of way about that. Guilty? Maybe. But with Anderson’s arms around me, I felt only an uncomfortable sorrow that seemed dull in comparison to the explosion of emotions I’d just experienced. I imagined it’d be in the morning light when anxiety would strike, so for now, I closed my eyes and held onto the night.
The ringing stopped after a few moments and my heart slowed, Anderson’s fingers drawing lazy circles on my skin as we both began to drift off again. The questions and fears we’d left downstairs were louder now, calling out to us, reminding us we’d abandoned them. But we weren’t ready to face them yet, so we held on tighter, and with a press of Anderson’s lips to my forehead, I slipped from consciousness and shut them out until morning.
It’d been a long time since I’d laid awake as a night passed slowly, but this time was different.
My eyes still watched the shadows move along the ceiling as each hour ticked by, my mind still raced with thoughts too twisted to let me sleep, but this time I wasn’t alone in my own bed. I was in Wren’s, her head on my chest, my hands in her hair, our bodies zipped together and legs tangled in her soft cotton sheets.
She’d fallen asleep quickly, which was probably for the best. I knew when she woke she’d have questions, ones I wasn’t sure I’d have answers for. When the sun started peeking through her sliding glass door, I played with her hair gently, brushing it back from her face and counting the seconds between her inhales and exhales.
Every thought I had was underlined with the notion that last night was a huge mistake, but in reality that was the last thing I actually felt. I’d needed her, my body knew it before even I did.
I’d walked here after leaving the cemetery almost as if there was no other choice, as if I had no say in the matter, and when she’d seen me she knew. I didn’t know for sure why she’d been the only person I wanted to see. Maybe it was because she’d been the last person I’d talked to about Dani, or really the only one I’d talked to about her in years. Or maybe it was because the pain in me recognized the pain in her, and the more she asked about me, the more I wanted to tell.
Even more, I wanted to know her, too—and I hadn’t given a shit about anyone in my entire life. I found myself enamored by her, perplexed in the sweetest yet most terrifying way. Still, no matter how mixed my feelings, I couldn’t take back what happened last night. And I wouldn’t have even if I could.
Maybe I was reading too much into it, but it almost felt like she needed me last night, too. The way she’d held onto me, the pain that bent her face the same way it bent my own when we connected—nothing about last night felt wrong, not even close.
The sun’s rays shone through her thin curtains, and I watched it highlight the gold in her hair as it dropped from my fingers and I started over again, brushing her scalp and running my hands through to the bottom strands. It wasn’t long before she stirred, and when her hand slid up my chest and hooked around my ribs she stilled, as if she’d just realized where she was, and who she was wrapped around.
Still, she seemed calm, and her hand stayed resting on my ribs as she waited for me to say the first word. I owed her that, and I knew it, but I didn’t know where to start. How could I tell her why I’d come to her last night if I wasn’t even sure myself?
“I went to see her yesterday,” I started, voice gruff. I cleared the thickness from my throat while my hand kept busy with her hair. “She’s buried in the same place my grandma is, a little garden cemetery not too far from here. My Aunt Rose used to meet me there. It was the one time each year that we saw each other. But she didn’t show yesterday.” I swallowed. “It’s been seven years, and I guess she’s finally moved on. Maybe I should have by now, too, but I don’t know if I ever will.”