8. Getting Lost
Getting Lost
Amity
A ll I wanted last night was a sense of belonging and peace with the one who captured my heart. The only way I knew how was to lie next to Blake, breathing in his juniper scent with our skin caressing each other. I need all this before I walk away from him for good, but not before I share my story. He deserves that from me, and then he can hop on the next plane to Brazil. Blake has five more months out there. Five months I don’t want to hold either of us accountable to promises that may not even exist anymore. Maybe after his time away, he will show up at my door, still wanting me. Still needing me like air. Still loving me as if his heart is breaking in two without me. A girl can always dream, right? We both need this time to figure out what future promises we want for ourselves and for each other. If any at all.
I roll over, placing my head in the nook of his arm and chest. His breathing is steady, but with instinct, his arm wraps around my body, holding me close to his. My eyes trail down his rippled stomach down to the bulge in briefs. I slowly trace my finger down the path my eyes made, through his manscaped happy trail, teasing the band on his briefs. His breath hitches slightly, but his eyes stay closed. Slowly, I slip my hand into his briefs, gently touching and gliding my hand up his shaft. “Damn, I love you,” Blake whispers out, almost making me freeze in motion as I was not expecting those words to spill from his lips. But dammit, pineapples. The butterflies take flight from the pit of my stomach, and I inch my body down his, kissing his bare chest as I go. Running my palms all over his body, remembering every freckle, ripple, and scar like this will be my last time with him.
* * *
Blake
My girl knows how to wake me up in the morning. Nothing else beats her body next to mine, and then her mouth engulfing my cock while she squeezes my sac. She takes me in deep as her tongue circles around and teases the tip before pulling back. Only to do it over and over again. O, god, she…“shit,” I groan out in pleasure. She uses her teeth to bare down on me before grinding them in a back and forth motion to cause just enough pressure, and it feels so fucking good.
“Amity, baby, let me have you. Let me come inside you.” My mouth says one thing, but my hand is wrapped in her hair guiding her back and forth on my cock. Not that she needs it, but her mouth feels incredible. All my dick wants to do is enjoy all the pleasure for himself and explode down her throat. She pulls back and makes a “pop” noise, pulling her mouth off my pied piper. Yes, I love that nickname. Our eyes connect, and I move faster than a cheetah going in for the kill, flipping her on her back. Not even giving her a millisecond to think, I push into her core.
Amity yells, “holy shit!” as she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist and digs her claws into my ass cheeks to hold on. Bucking against me, meeting my moan for moan. I am completely, devastatingly obsessed with this woman underneath me. Letting her go will never be an option. Not now, not ever. Her body tensing pulls me back to her ice dagger eyes and dark hair splayed out over the bed. Amity’s beauty is captivating. Her fearlessness is riveting. Her heart, body, and soul…mine! I slow my pace down, drawing out a moan of ecstasy. Pushing her to beg me, “please. Blake.” Panting, “hard, fast.” I know I am on the precipice myself, so I give my girl what she wants. Pulling her legs up, with her feet resting on my shoulders, I thrust hard into her. It only takes a few movements, before she clenches over me, squeezing my shaft, with me spilling inside her, making her moan even louder.
“You are mine, Amity. Only mine,” I whisper. Claiming all of her, while I continue to slowly grind, allowing my release to subside in her.
Letting her legs go, falling onto the bed on either side of my body, I hover over her. Brushing my hand through her hair, kissing her breasts, up to her neck, cheek then lips. “Know this one thing, Amity. I love you. Only you and me. Got it?” She nods her head yes, and her eyes swell with tears, making her eyes look like pristine glaciers floating across water. Lying next to her, I pull her against my body to hold her tightly. Reeling in that only I ever see this rare emotional side of her. She is such a hard-ass all day long with everyone, but I cherish these tears, even if she is hurting. “Baby, all will be okay. We are going to figure this out. I promise you.”
Amity rolls over to face me. “I don’t think any of this will be okay. Not after how I tell you how damaged I am.” Just like that, in Amity fashion, she begins to spill the tea on the history I could give two shitting cows about, but I sense the importance to her to tell me.