Chapter 34 Verity #2
“So tight.” His voice is hoarse, his breaths misting my lips, and his forehead pressed to mine. “So fucking perfect.”
The initial sting fades, and an ache takes its place. A deep need that has me linking my ankles at the base of his spine.
“You want it?” he asks, hooking his arm behind my knee, spreading me open wider.
I have no air to speak, no sound for the tumble of thoughts and sensations overtaking me, but I nod and tighten my muscles around him.
“Shit,” he groans, moving and pushing in so deep it feels like he reaches the very bottom of me; the places I forgot or never knew. “You take me so good, Vee, like this pussy was made for me.”
It was.
I almost scream the confession; almost tell him that I’ve felt empty ever since the last time we were together this way, and now I’m full again.
Not just the way he rocks into me so hard and deep, my breath saws out with every thrust, but the kind of full that is like a sigh. That feels like finally.
He reaches between us, caressing and stroking, playing me like an arpeggio; a chord that ascends and climbs until it breaks.
When I come, my scream splits the air and he follows, dropping his head to the curve of my shoulder as he loses himself to a rhythm that has gotten away from us both.
Something we’re captive to, at the mercy of; our bodies so entangled it feels like our very souls are joined.
The careful separations of commas and dashes and periods dissolve, and we are a run-on sentence.
So caught up in right now untilwecannotdistinguishwhereoneendsandtheotherbegins.
Flesh and essence overlap. Slammed together.
Grinding the differences from before to dust. It feels like a reunion; like returning to a home you never should have left.
My last conscious thought as we tangle in the sheets is to wonder if he might feel the same.
I wake with a start, disoriented by the heavy arm draped over my waist and the unfamiliar bed.
I haven’t been the little spoon in years.
For a while there, when we adjusted the meds, my sex drive went into hibernation.
For months, my body was unrousable. When things leveled out, I was focused on work and only made space for quick hookups with no unnecessary cuddling.
I called those my come-and-goes. We both come…
more than once if we’re lucky… and then I go.
Come and go.
I haven’t slept with many men since I moved to LA.
Not that I haven’t been attracted to any.
I have, but I need to feel safe to truly enjoy sex, and going to some strange guy’s house or having him in my space feels risky.
So few men have ever truly made me feel safe.
The history Monk and I have, the way we know each other, the way I know he loved me before everything went wrong—there is literally no man, no one I’ve ever felt safer with.
My body at least. My heart.… That has been in jeopardy since the moment I found out we’d be working together on this film.
I glance over my shoulder, my eyes mapping his back, a smooth plane of muscle and bone, and down to the tight curve of his ass, barely covered by the sheet.
Hmmm…
I hold back a giggle at the thought of Monk letting me near his ass. You never know…
The temptation to stay right here, snuggled into his strong arms, is great. To let myself believe, even if only for a few moments, that this is more than the casual fling we’ve agreed to. I haven’t wanted that with anyone in a long time, but Monk’s the exception.
He always has been.
I force myself to ease away and out from under him, even though I should probably go back to sleep as soon as possible.
I have to be mindful when I travel. Time zones wreak havoc with my moods and can trigger an episode if I’m not careful.
I cannot afford a disrupted circadian rhythm.
Sleep is one of the best things I can do to remain stable.
I’m mentally wording the note I’ll leave on his nightstand, striking the right tone of lightness and let’s do this again sometime soon, when Monk wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me back.
“Where you going?” he mumbles, his voice sleep-rasped and his eyes still glazed.
“I, um, was just gonna…” I try to pull away, but his arm tightens. “Go home.”
“Why?” Some of the fog clears from his expression, replaced by a frown.
“We said this would be, ya know… casual, and I didn’t want you to think that I think that we—Ooompf!”
All the air whooshes out of me when Monk drags me back into bed and rolls on top of me, trapping me beneath him.
“Bring that pretty ass back here,” he says, pushing my hair back from my face and tapping my temple. “There’s too much going on up here.”
He leaves a trail of kisses across my jaw and down the line of my neck. Settling his hips between my legs, he pushes my arms above my head and threads our fingers together. He dips his head and takes my nipple between his lips. “You should have been resting up.”
“Um, for what?” I finally manage to ask dazedly through the haze of lust and languor.
Monk rests his chin between my breasts and grins at me wolfishly.
“For round two.”