Chapter Fifty #4
As he slid the material off, his breath moved out in a hiss as his eyes blazed a path downward.
And I swear to God, every inch of skin they glanced at warmed.
On his next breath, his hands glided down the sides of my breasts, watching as my nipples tweaked into hardened buds of need. At the last possible second, his fingers moved inward, tracing under the swells before his palms closed over them.
There was no control over my body.
My hips ground down on him, sliding, imitating the movement I needed most as a ragged moan tore from somewhere deep inside me as his thumbs found my nipples, moving over them in circles, his gaze alternating between my body's reaction to his touch and my face, like he couldn't quite decide which was more fascinating, like he needed to take it all in.
There was an odd thought that crossed my mind in that moment.
I've never felt quite so important before.
On that thought, my hands gently pushed his away, planting onto his shoulders, pushing him down flat once again.
There was no pausing this time, no letting him interrupt.
My body curled downward.
My hand grabbed him at the base.
My tongue traced up the sensitive underside, feeling his whole body tremble at the sensation.
There was no stopping me then.
My tongue traced over the head before my lips closed around him, sucking him deep, feeling his hips buck upward into me, spurring me on.
His hands moved to the back of my head, fingers sifting into my hair, curling it into his fists as his breath started to come out in quick staccatos while I drove him upward.
Lost in the moment, all thoughts of anything other than this disappeared.
Until Barrett's fingers pulled, yanking hard enough to make me pull back, his cock leaving my mouth as I curled backward to ease the ache.
Looking up, I found him staring down at me, chest heaving a bit, eyes full of need, but also determination.
Upon meeting my gaze, his hands released my hair, one hand landing on my shoulder, the other turning to the backs of his fingers stroked down my cheeks, over my lips that suddenly felt a bit swollen and sensitive.
His body curled up, arm closing around my lower back, holding my chest against his as he pushed me down on my back, his body coming over me.
The sensations hit me all at once.
His chest crushing my breasts, the feel of his hair teasing over my nipples, the weight of him—more than I had been expecting given his thinness—his cock pressing into the crease of my inner thigh.
The only thing between us now was my nearly nonexistent underwear.
Seeming to realize this at the exact same moment as I did, his hand moved between us, grabbing the bit going over my hip, pulling until there was a rip, then yanking the material away, tossing it to the floor.
Without boundaries, his hips shifted, his cock sliding between my folds, gliding against my cleft, the head hitting my clit as he ground against me over and over until I was writhing beneath him.
Until my nails were clawing down the skin of his back.
As my hips were thrusting up against him, begging for release.
His weight shifted to one arm as the other reached outward, digging in his nightstand, coming back with a condom, quickly pressing back to roll it on before sealing his lips to mine again, refusing to progress until the writhing returned, until I was pretty sure I was leaving bloody marks on his shoulders, until I actually begged for it.
"Barrett, please," I whimpered, nipping his lower lip.
The superhuman control he had exerted up until this point slipped, his hips shifting, his cock slipping, then pressing against me before surging inside with one deep thrust.
I almost came right then and there, my muscles tightening around him, my thigh muscles calming tight around his hips.
"Fuck," he hissed, forehead pressing to mine for a second as he fought for control.
"Don't stop," I whimpered, fingers digging into his ass as my hips ground against him, begging for completion.
He pressed back up, watching me as he began to thrust, taking me as deep as possible each time, the headboard slamming against the wall as he drove me upward.
He pressed backward, grabbing my legs at the ankles, pressing them in toward my chest gently, his hand slipping between my thighs, finding my clit, working it in harder circles than before, pushing me right to the edge.
And just like that, his gaze on mine, the orgasm tore through my system violently, making me half fold upward toward him, my forehead pressing into his arm as I cried out his name while the waves overtook my body.
He thrust deep one last time, his body shuddering as he came on the tail end of my orgasm.
I don't know how long we stayed just like that afterward. But by the time I was in my right mind again, my thigh and abdominal muscles were shaking from the strain of holding the position.
When I tried to release, all my muscles seemed to fail at once, sending me lifelessly backward onto the mattress, too weak even to try to twist my body into a halfway attractive position.
My legs were wide to each side of his body, my arms at my sides—my usual starfish sleeping position which wasn't overly attractive even when fully clothes and I imagined was even less so fully naked.
But I couldn't seem to care.
And Barrett's gaze was on my face anyway, brows drawn a bit together, lips parted slightly, looking at me like I was a question that didn't seem to have a correct answer.
There was no way sex was something new to him, not with how good he was at it, so I couldn't quite figure out why he was looking at me like this was something entirely new.
Then again, I had to admit that it felt a little different to me too.
Deeper.
More connected.
But experience had told me that guys, well, they simply didn't feel that way about sex.
Then again, Barrett wasn't most guys.
So maybe all those rules and ideas weren't applicable here.
He said nothing as he pulled suddenly away, left the bed, left the room, disappeared.
Maybe I should have felt awkward, a little rejected, but all I could focus on was how satisfied my body felt as I forced some strength back into my limbs, reached for the blanket, and drew it up over my body as I sat up in the bed.
I was curling over my shoulder to check and see if we'd caused any damage to the wall with the headboard when I heard him come back in.
I think I was preparing myself for some sort of rejection, him telling me to get going, that he wanted to sleep alone. I could feel myself steeling for it.
But when my gaze landed on him, he was standing there still stark freaking naked, but holding the two plates/trays in his hands, both of them completely loaded down with food.
There was no stopping the smile that pulled at my lips as he dropped my plate on my lap, then slid in on the other side of me.
"Still a little warm," he declared with a shrug that brushed my shoulder as he started to eat.
I don't know where the urge came from exactly, but my head tilted over, resting on his shoulder for a long moment.
He didn't shrug me away; didn't seem the least bit bothered by the contact. In fact, between fork-fulls, his hand moved out, found my thigh over the blankets, and gave it a little squeeze.
That was when my belly remembered how long it had been since I had eaten. And that we'd just burned quite a few calories on top of that.
He was right, some of it was warm.
But some of it was cold.
Some even soggy.
But it didn't matter.
It was the best meal I had ever had in my life.