Request for Proposal

Chapter Three

Bernie

I run a brush through my hair and check myself in the mirror one last time. I obviously hadn’t planned on dating during a work trip, but my black cocktail dress works just as well for an evening out. A little conservative maybe, but Ash didn’t seem to mind my jeans and t-shirt last night.

“Are you going to wear heels?” Pru asks me. She leans forward in the video like she’s inspecting me.

I scoff. “No.”

“Why not? If I was tall like an Amazon, I would freaking own it.” She sits back. “What’s his last name again?” I can hear her typing in the background.

“It’s Mishra. Are you googling him?”

“Hell yes, I’m googling him. Maybe he’s a serial killer. Probably good at it with all those knife skills.” Her typing stops. “Huh. I can’t find an ‘Ash Mishra’ on the Council on Clinical Cardiology website. Is Ash a nickname? Maybe it’s a nickname.”

“Yeah, his full name is Ashish. Maybe he’s not a member. You don’t always have to be a member to attend a conference.”

“Hmm, true. What time is he picking you up?”

I look at the clock. 6:58 pm. “Any minute.”

“Good, pick up the phone and show me the final look.”

I roll my eyes and face the phone towards me, flipping the camera so she can see my reflection in the mirror instead of a close-up of my face. “Ok, Mom. Do you approve?”

“Jesus Bernie, you have slammin’ gams.”

I snort at her compliment. I’m tall at 5’9, so my black sheath dress hits me above the knee, making it look like my legs go on forever. When I move, you can see the metallic threads woven into the black fabric, giving the dress the faintest shimmer. It’s understated and classic, and tonight, maybe a little sexy.

“You’re wearing your hair down?” she asks curiously.

“Yes,” I shrug and toss my hair over my shoulder like it’s no big deal. It is. I have curly hair that falls in waves down to my shoulder blades. It’s unruly and sexy. A caramel blonde made up of mostly dark blonde with blocks of lighter and darker shades. I love it but I rarely let it down. I guess I want to avoid the way it makes me look softer and sexier. Frankly, it’s been a while since I’ve wanted to feel that way.

“Wow, you like him.”

“It’s just a date, Prudence. Don’t make it a big deal.”

“Bernadette Marianne Weber Murphy, you just full-named me, and you’re bringing out the hair. This is obviously a big deal.”

I lift a shoulder in a play for nonchalance. “Max Weber’s wife?” I ask.

“How dare you associate Marianne only through her husband's work? She was a champion of women’s rights and wrote about the German woman experience–”

Three knocks carry from the bedroom into the small bathroom, cutting Pru off. I watch as Pru’s eyes widen.

“I have to go.”

“Remember B, no glove, no love.”

I shake my head and flip her off before disconnecting the call. Walking out of the bathroom, I rush to stuff my phone into my purse, and it's seconds before I’m staring at the door. My hand hovers over the doorknob and I grip my purse strap tightly with the other.

No pressure. Heck, maybe you won’t even like this guy anymore. Who knows, maybe sleep deprivation, wine, and cream cheese frosting created some kind of beer goggles that turn hazel-eyed cardiologists into sexy, smoldering sex gods that make you do crazy things like invite them into your hotel room or agree to go on a date . Yeah. It was a fluke, and this is just going to be a normal awkward first date.

I pull open the door.

Nope, still gorgeous .

He’s leaning against my door wearing black slacks and a knit ribbed polo shirt that should look ridiculous but somehow frames his broad chest and pecs in a way that makes me want to rip it off. If he flexed, would he rip his sleeves? Are those his nipples? The light blue color makes his skin and dark hair contrast in the sexiest way.

He straightens, stepping forward, suddenly close. In flats, he’s just a few inches taller than me, our mouths in perfect alignment. I want to lean forward and rub my nose into his beard. It’s short and looks soft. He smells like eucalyptus, clean and sharp.

“Bernie, you look beautiful.” His voice is soft, and I notice the dark brown flecks around his pupils.

“So do you.” I watch a smile spread across his face. I’m not sure if I amuse him or make him happy. “Handsome, I mean. You look very handsome.”

He slides a hand up my bare arm, across my shoulder, hesitating briefly before twisting one of my curls around a finger. “I brought you something.”

His lips are close to mine, and I sway toward him, hypnotized. If this was my normal life, I would be terrified that the force of my attraction to someone new would push me into a connection I wasn’t ready for, but a conference hookup? It’s temporary. This is sexual, purely sexual. We both know the score here. Why not give in?

“What’s that?”

He’s going to kiss me. I close my eyes and lean forward. His beard brushes my cheek then his hand leaves my shoulder.

“I brought you a present.”

I blink slowly. What? “A present?”

His eyes are crinkled at the corners when he holds up a small brown bag. Apparently, his chest prevented me from noticing he was holding anything.

Who am I?

I reach for it, my body confused. Why didn’t he kiss me? I open the bag and pull out a small container labeled with today’s date and a sticker from a bakery.

“What’s this?”

“It’s cream cheese frosting. So you can skip the cake altogether.”

I stare hard at the frosting.

His voice is a little hesitant, but he continues. “There’s a spoon in there too in case you don’t have any in your hotel room. The bakery staff said it’s good for three days in the fridge, should last you through your conference, right?”

I drop the frosting back into the bag and carefully close it. I set it on the floor and drop my purse beside it before straightening. Just like he needed to see me tonight, I need his lips on mine. Now. I reach out and grip the front of his shirt, and pull him to me.

I crush our mouths together, and it’s not slow or romantic. I’m frantic, kissing with probably too much tongue. I want to climb this man like a tree. I want to find out if the little peek of chest hair at the V of his shirt goes all over, if it’s dense, or if it trails down his abs and disappears into his slacks. I want to put my mouth on the thin gold chain around his neck.

What kind of lover is a guy who brings you a tub of cream cheese frosting on a first date? I’m pretty sure he’s the kind that goes downtown, and if the needy ache between my legs is anything to go by, I need to know.

He slides his hands up my back and into my hair, cupping my head with his big hands. He kisses me with the same urgency, like he couldn’t wait for this moment either. He walks us forward and turns slightly until my back is pressed up against something hard. I’m vaguely aware that I’m being lifted, his hands cupping my ass and grinding me against him as he drives his tongue into my mouth, taking control of this frantic kiss that I don’t ever want to stop. I moan as I feel a hardening length press against me, the dull pulse of arousal getting a little sharper.

His hands skim under my dress, and the heat from them burns my skin. Squeezing like he’s testing the weight of each cheek, his fingers grazing my crack through my underwear, pinkies sliding along lace. He bites my lip and kisses along my jaw, sucking on my neck.

“Bernadette,” he moans, rocking slightly against me. I have never hated fabric more than I do in this moment. “Bernie, what are you doing to me?” Those big hands squeeze hard again, and I whimper, lifting my chin and arching my back toward him. He nuzzles my breasts through my dress.

“I want you,” I tell him, sliding my fingers into his hair.

“Is this too fast?”

I rock against him. Too fast? I’m only here for one more full day. It feels like now or never.

“Do you want me?” My voice sounds so breathy.

“God, Bernie, I do, I just don’t want to fuck this up.” His lips are pressed against my skin, and the prickly rasp of his beard is fucking delicious. I know he’s gone for me because even in trying to slow down, he’s pressing his fingertips into the crease of my ass. They edge down toward my center before stretching my panties, like he’s seeking out proof that I’m just as into him as he is for me.

“Ash.” I pull his face up and attack his mouth again, rocking rhythmically against his erection, loving the pressure of his fingers from behind. I shift slightly, and my folds part just enough to give me the friction I need. I moan into his mouth, dry-humping this beautiful man.

“Bernie,” he whispers into my mouth. “Are you going to come like this?” His voice holds a hint of surprise, like he can’t believe it either. A pinkie hooks into the side of my lacy boyshorts and tugs them to the side. Suddenly the cloth-covered pressure becomes a slick, persistent finger, parting me and prodding my entrance. I pant into his mouth and rock harder.

“God, you’re wet, Bernie. Is this all for me?” He circles his hips against me, his breath hot against my mouth.

“Yes, yes. Give me your fingers.”

He edges a finger into me, moving so slowly I think I’m going to go crazy. My clit is burning, and I need, fuck, what do I need? He rocks his hips forward in time with my hips, and the added friction tips me into my first assisted orgasm in two years. As I fall apart, his finger moves in deeper, joined by a second, and my walls grip them frantically.

As the intensity fades, Ash stops rocking his hips. He must know I need less friction on my clit, but he keeps pumping his fingers into me, kissing me. I could get addicted to how tender my skin is when he kisses me.

“You are my literal dream, Bernadette Murphy,” he whispers against my mouth. “So fucking beautiful. Does this feel good?” He slides his fingers out and brings his hand to my front, wedging it between our bodies until they’re pressing into me again, deeper, and harder. I guess doctors have to be good with their hands. I read somewhere that surgeons insure their hands.

I 100% support this policy.

“Feels good. I want you,” I pant. “I want you now, tonight.”

“I can feel how much you want me, sunshine, but I don’t want to rush you. Rush this.”

I squeeze myself around his fingers as hard as I can, pulling his mouth back up to mine. I rub my swollen lips against his, digging my fingers into his beard. The soft rasping sound gives me goosebumps.

“I want you, Ash. I want this, now. Please.” I squeeze around his fingers, and I can feel the second he gives in–a new kind of tension fills his body and a thrill ripples through mine. He slowly withdraws his fingers and cups my ass again, walking me into the room and laying me on the bed.

“Stay,” he commands, then turns toward the door. I think he’s leaving when I realize the frosting container and my purse have acted like a doorstop. I literally dry-humped this poor man with the door open. Embarrassment threatens to consume me, but I mentally tamp it down. I refuse to be embarrassed. I don’t want to care that I dry-humped a near stranger and came in fucking minutes because my body was so touch-starved that it couldn’t handle it. I want to feel wanton and sexy and enjoy this without anxiety, doubt, or second-guessing. I want Ashish Mishra.

I watch as he flips the bar lock at the top of the door and turns back to me. His eyes hold mine as he stalks forward, removing his wallet from his pants and withdrawing three foil packets before dropping his wallet on the side table. He pauses at the bed, running his eyes down my body before reaching behind his head and pulling his shirt off.

My eyes eat him up, taking in the details of his rounded shoulders and defined pecs. The thick hair on his chest. His stomach is softer, toned, and fit, but he doesn’t look like a fitness model. He deliberately sets the condoms on the bed before circling hot fingers around my ankles.

All I see is hazel as my legs are slowly pulled apart until the fabric of my stretched-out underwear partially exposes me. The faintest touch moves up the inside of my calves to my knees, up my thighs until he curls his fingers into my waistband and pulls them down. We’ve gone from warp speed to slow motion.

His hand clenches around the fabric before he kneels on the carpet, spreading my thighs with pressure from his hot palms until I feel the air conditioning on all of my slick parts. Holy shit. I was right . Oh my God, I’ve only had one other person do this to me. What will his beard feel like?

He blinks slowly and then looks down, taking me in, and I close my eyes. It’s too much to watch, and the lack of the visual makes the first touch of his fingers more jarring. I suck in a sharp breath and jerk when his thumbs brush against me. His breath is hot, and goosebumps race up my thighs, spreading all over my body.

“I want this too, Bernie.” He’s pressing the softest kisses inside my thigh. “Tell me what you like. You look so wet.” One of his thumbs grazes the length of me, and I shiver, opening my eyes.

I expect to see him looking down, but he’s watching my face, his eyes crinkling when I meet them. “There you are. Tell me what you like.”

His thumb circles my clit, and I jolt a little. I’m struck with the oddness of this experience, a man I hardly know asking me what I want, and I realize I don’t really know. Sex has always been done to me. I either liked it or I didn't. And it’s a sobering realization.

“I don’t know, Ash. I don’t know what to tell you.”

He strokes his thumb down, pushing it into me. He watches me as he sinks inside me so slowly and I squeeze around him because my body wants more. “Hmm, tell me if anything doesn’t feel good.”

I nod and rest my head back against the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut and panting. One of his hands slides over mine, pulling it toward him, up his neck, and into his hair.

“I like when you touch me,” he says against the inside of my knee.

I nod and thread my fingers into his hair. I feel him moving closer but I’m still surprised when his tongue licks up my slit, and every muscle in my body clenches tight around his finger.

“Umm, more fingers, please?” I ask the ceiling because I’m a coward. I might be too chicken to watch this man eat me out, but I want to please him too; I bring my other hand to the back of his neck and squeeze. He hums into me in approval. I feel him withdraw his thumb and stroke two fingers into me.

“That feels good, I like that,” I gasp, encouraging him. He moves his fingers, licking me up and down. When he curls them inside me, pressing against my front wall, I try to snap my legs together. “Nope, nope, I don’t like that.”

He moans into me, pivoting his movements to soothing. His fingers and mouth are making me ache in the most delicious way.

My heart is racing, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m turned on or because I gave negative feedback during sex. Is this sexy? He sucks one of my labia into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it. I massage the back of his neck and arch into him a little bit.

“I like that,” I whisper.

Ashish releases me and presses a soft kiss on my lower belly. “I love your taste, Bernie. I want you to look at me while I eat your pussy. Watch me, stop thinking so hard.” He presses his fingers deep inside me, and I squeak, toes curling. “Play with your clit,” he demands, and pleasure curls in my body.

I release his hair and touch myself, sliding a finger down, feeling where we’re joined then circling my clit.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispers. “I love your hands on me.” He rubs his lips against my skin, kissing down my mound and over my fingers. I feel his tongue flicking against my fingertips, circling and then licking my clit.

“Just like that, Ash, just like that.” I put my hand back into his hair and rock against his mouth and fingers. He cups one of my breasts through my dress — why am I still dressed ? I look down at him, at us. Watching his mouth work on me is like nothing I’ve felt before, and I tug his hair experimentally, massaging his neck, then his shoulder with my other hand. I want more , so I sit up and explore further down his chest.

He groans into me, opening his mouth for more. Feeling brave, I hook one leg over his shoulder and slide my hand down his scratchy chest. I find his pec and graze his nipple. He’s moaning into me, sucking harder. I realize I’m pressing him into me, riding his face. “It’s so good, Ash, I need more. Another finger, please.”

He quickly complies, and I cry out as I feel the stretch. His arm snakes around my lower back, and he holds me in place to take the onslaught of his mouth and fingers.

“You’re going to make me come. I’m going to come, it feels so good,” I chant, both of my hands sunk into his thick hair, and I rock against him. It’s like all of the anxiety that constantly runs through me is fading away and I don’t care about anything other than how good this feels. His steady perfect pressure takes me over the edge, and I come on his face.

I can feel my heartbeat all the way to my toes, and I don’t know what the hell to say. What the fuck just happened to me? Is this what sex is like when your partner asks for direction? He rubs his face along the inside of my thigh. Will his beard smell like me? I find myself clenching around his fingers again.

“Holy shit, Ash.” I drop back onto the bed and run my fingers through my hair. I’m a mess. My dress is rucked up around my waist, and I can feel his eyes on me but I’m just too chicken to meet them. He bites my thigh, and I yelp, trying to snap my legs closed.

“I want your eyes, sunshine.” Why does he sound so amused? Do hot cardiologists have lots of random sex? And all that anxiety that seemed to have disappeared in the heat of the moment comes rushing back. Shit, what do I even know about this guy? Is he married?

I push up and bring my knees to my chest, pulling a pillow in front of me. He continues to kneel by the bed watching me.

“Sorry, I’m not used to this. I’ve never done” --I wave my hand between us--“this.”

He gives me a quizzical glance. “This?”

“You know, hookup sex. I’ve never been with anyone I’m not in a relationship with. Fuck, you’re not married or anything are you?” My words rush out before I can second guess them, or before the logical part of my brain can tell me to chill out. I hide my face in the pillow I’m clutching over my knees. Kill me.

“Hookup sex,” he repeats slowly. “Right.”

I peek at him, and his brow is furrowed. He pushes up off the floor and sits on the edge of the bed with hunched shoulders. Shit, did I hurt his feelings? Why do I feel like I accidentally stepped on a dog's tail or something? “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. I guess I’ve never done the hookup sex thing either.” He glances at me, hooded eyes blinking slowly, and I feel pressure in my chest.

Shit. What have I done? Were we not on the same page? “That’s what this is, right?” My voice sounds small.

“Well, I really did want to take you on a date. I…well, we’re…we’re kind of –” He runs his fingers through his hair, looking away. My heart starts to race for a whole other reason. “I guess we’ve skipped some steps haven’t we, Bernadette?”

I like how he uses my full name. “Steps?”

“Usually you date someone before sleeping with them, but I…I’m sorry I lost my head. Maybe we should slow down.” He smiles and pushes up off the mattress, going into the bathroom to wash his face.

With every step he takes away from me, panic grows. What? Date?

“I…I don’t know anything about you. I mean, how are we supposed to date when we don’t live in the same place? I thought this was…just for fun?” I can hear my voice get a little higher than normal and squeak when he stalks from the bathroom and crawls onto the mattress.

I cling to my pillow tighter even as he tugs it away, a small smile twisting his lips. He pushes me onto my back, making room for himself between my legs. He cups my chin and gives me the slowest and most tender kiss of my freaking life. He’s giving me whiplash.

He pulls his lips back just enough to speak. “Bernie, stop panicking. I like you. I don’t usually click with someone so easily. I’d like to get to know you more.” He brushes another kiss across my lips. “Now tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know if I want to date anyone, Ash. I guess I’m still recovering from a breakup – it was bad. I thought this was for fun. I haven’t been with anyone in almost two years…since. Well since.” I take a deep breath but it does nothing to clear my mind. All I can smell is his sharp clean cologne.

His face is so close to mine. He rubs his lips against mine. My body is at war, my heart and my mind panicking, telling me to get the hell away from this man, and my hormones telling me I need his body sunk deep inside my own, like, yesterday.

“Compromise?”

Another soft kiss and I follow his lips when he pulls away. “Compromise?”

“We can have fun, but maybe you’ll be open to seeing me again? What do you think, Bernie?” He kisses along my neck and sucks my collarbone. I want him to lift my dress off and place those wet kisses all over my body.

“I…I can’t think when you do that, Ash.” One of his hands strokes my side before curving around my hip. He grinds against me like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Then don’t think, Bernadette. Say yes, Bernie, be open. If nothing comes of it, no hard feelings. I just need to know you’re open to it. I don’t want to have sex that doesn’t mean anything.” He sucks my earlobe into his mouth. “This feels like it means something to me.”

Be open?

Bernie, what are you doing? There is no such thing as a happily ever after, you know this .

But no matter how much my mind screams at me, I’m surprised that I don’t want to say no. I want to feel every minute of this.

What’s the harm? Is there harm in saying maybe?

Ash looks up from kissing me, and I’m entrapped by the brown and green color of his eyes, the desire there, the genuineness that radiates from him. He leans in and presses his forehead into mine, waiting.

What are you waiting for Bernie? Just have fun, be open.

“No promises?” I whisper.

“No promises, just possibilities.”

“Just possibilities.” My heart pinches a little.

Fuck it.

I take his mouth with mine, running my hands up his chest and feeling how hard is heart is racing. “Okay, possibilities.”

He gives an approving hum, and then his body is off mine, his hands dragging me up to my knees. He tugs my zipper down and his fingers gather the bottom of my dress, pulling it up over my body. He makes quick work of my bra, and I’m kneeling naked in front of him. The hungry look on his face makes my own surge forward. With light hands, he runs his fingers along my back to my breasts, pinching each nipple lightly.

“God, look at you.” He cups me in his hands, feeling the slight weight of them, and I watch, transfixed with his skin sliding over mine. He thumbs my nipples until they’re in tight points, his breath hot on my ear. “I’m going to make you feel so good that you won’t want anyone else. You’ll be as obsessed with me as I am with you.”

“I thought you insisted you weren’t a stalker,” I pant, arching towards him.

He smiles and pinches my nipples again, before easing me onto my back. His beard scratches my skin as he makes his way down, sucking my nipple hard before moving to the other. I’m panting when he slides off the bed and starts to undo his belt. I turn onto my side, pulling the pillow in front of my body, watching him.

He’s so sexy. There’s just heft to him. I certainly don’t feel like a giant next to him. His shoulders are broad and…oh my God, when he lets his slacks fall, I can see how thick his thighs are. Quads and hamstrings are delineated in tight black boxer briefs. Cycling is clearly more than a casual hobby for this guy. He cups himself through his boxers while I watch, my eyes are drawn to his erection, thick and long.

“Dr. Mishra, your legs are unbelievably hot.”

He laughs, turning to the side to playfully flex for me. “Right back at you, sunshine.”

“Are you…are you going to lose the shorts?” I bite my lip and look up at him. I want to see this man naked more than I want– well, more than anything I can currently think of.

“Are you going to lose the pillow?” he quips. “Why are you hiding from me?”

My eyes follow his hand, stroking what looks a little intimidating if I’m honest. “Umm, sure, It’s just not the most flattering angle.” I move to sit up, and he pushes me back down, whipping the pillow away from me.

“Bernadette, your body is a work of art.” He slides his hands over my barely A cups, down my stomach, over the little pouch there, over my ass, my legs. “So damn beautiful. You don’t need to hide from me.”

I sit up slowly and scoot to the edge of the bed, grasping the waistband of his underwear. I look up at him for permission before tugging them slowly down, watching his thick erection break free and bob in front of me as the black fabric pools around his feet. I slide my fingers along the curve of his thigh and kiss his stomach. He does have a trail of hair here, thick and soft. He groans and cups my nape, holding me to him.

Encouraged, I kiss over the soft slope of his stomach, moving slowly before licking down his shaft to his swollen tip. I take him lightly in my mouth, and his hand squeezes the back of my neck, his hips canting forward.

“That feels good, sunshine.”

I slide more of his length into my mouth, stroking the rest of his shaft with my hand. He smells good. I wonder if he showered right before coming over. I hum around him, moving leisurely up and down. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of him, his taste, and the way he’s trying to be gentle with his hands.

“Bernie, I can’t.” He slides his fingers into my hair and tugs softly. I look up at him. “I need to be inside you.”

I sit up and tip my head to the side, but before I can tease him like I want to, he’s already pressing me into the mattress, making room for himself between my thighs. I hear the rip of foil and smell the latex before I process the slick tip pushing my folds apart.

“Yes?” His voice is gruff, and I arch into him.

“Hell, yes,” I moan into his mouth, lifting my hips and taking him. I fill every possible millimeter available in my body with him, and he moans, grinding against me like he wants more. I immediately push against his chest, because I clearly didn’t think this through. Two years without this, well, things don’t feel quite the same.

He reaches between our bodies and circles my clit, holding still, waiting, waiting for something.

“I just need a minute,” I moan.

He kisses me, persisting with the soft wet circles until I soften around him, tilting up slightly. “Do you want me to stop? You feel amazing, Bernie. Tell me what you want.” Circle, circle, kiss.

I raise my hands over my head and twist my fingers in the bedding. His eyes look greedy. I start to arch into his touch, rocking slightly, testing the feel of him inside me.

Tell me what you like. What do you like, Bernie, what do you want? I cringe but make myself blurt out an answer.

“Talk to me.” I rock up into him, and he moans. He tugs my clit slightly, keeping his hips still as I move under him.

“How do you want me to talk to you, beautiful?” Ash licks his lips, and I feel him flex inside of me.

“I want…” I circle my arms around his neck. “Can you move a little?”

He smiles and kisses me, covering my body, one arm holding some of his weight while his hand grips my hip. “Tell me what you want, Bernie.”

I hook my legs over his hips and arch into him. I tuck my face into his neck and slide my hands down his back before whispering, “I want you to say nice things.”

He groans into my hair and starts to thrust a little harder into me. “Do you want me to tell you you’re beautiful?”

I clench around him. I can feel his smile spread against my skin.

“Hmm. Do you want me to tell you that being inside you makes me ache? That your pussy is perfect?” He’s licking down my neck and fucking me harder and I can’t think, all I can do is feel this, relish how good he’s making me feel.

“Don’t stop,” I pant, and he licks my shoulder.

“I won’t, Bernie, I’m not going to stop until you come all over my dick.” With those words, his lips take mine, and I don’t care that I need to breathe. All I want to do is chase this feeling inside my chest as much as I want to chase the orgasm building inside of me.

He bites down my chest and sucks my nipples, fucking me hard and fast.

My body writhes under him, his mouth, his hands, his body taking everything. But I need more. I reach between us to touch my clit and his hand quickly snakes between us, pushing mine out of the way. His fingers graze and then tug on my clit, stealing any breath I had and making everything clench.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he pants, and I can feel drops of sweat dripping onto my skin.

“Don’t wait for me. I don’t think I can another time,” I gasp, arching into him.

He hums against my skin, clearly not believing me, because his hips and fingers don’t falter until I peak in a sweaty pinned-down mess, my moans swallowed by his mouth, and it’s so fucking perfect. He groans into my lips, and I watch as he kneels, hooking my legs over his shoulders and thrusts, finding his own pleasure. I slide my hand up his stomach, resting it over his pounding heart.

Possibilities .