Chapter 34
BILLIE
I was still dissolving in the aftershocks of my second orgasm, a soft and helpless mess tangled in the couch cushions, when Adam started to kiss his way up my body.
He took his time, as if he was memorizing the taste and texture of my skin, trailing little pecks and slow, featherlight kisses from the inside of my knee to the sensitive spot just below my hip.
He didn’t miss a patch, not even the ticklish part at the top of my thigh that always made me giggle when caught off guard like this.
He grinned into my skin at that, then continued his journey across my stomach in a maddening zigzag, pausing at my belly button for a lazy circle of his tongue.
The anticipation built and built, my body already over-sensitized and yet desperate for more, every nerve ending raw and electric.
By the time he reached my chest, I was actively arching up into him, practically whimpering. He lavished attention on first one breast and then the other, alternating between gentle sucking and firm, insistent licks that sent aftershocks rocketing to my core.
For a long, slow minute, it was just his mouth and my body, his tongue flicking and teasing, his teeth scraping lightly at my nipples until they peaked and ached. He squeezed, massaged, and when he pinched just right. I gasped a little too loudly and felt him smile against my skin.
His hands mapped the rest of me, fingers digging into my hips, thumbs stroking lazy circles on my ribs, as if he was determined to ground me to earth just when I was about to float away.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved my hands between us and wrapped my fingers around his straining shaft. He was rock hard, and the tip was slick with a drop of arousal. He grabbed my wrist and moved it from up above my head, then pressed his length against my inner thigh like a promise.
I watched as he reached down with the hand not holding me in place and gave himself an absent stroke and then lined up at my entrance.
He was in control—he always was—but I could feel the anticipation running through him, the little shivers of restraint in his arms as he fought to go slow.
He pressed in, just the tip, then backed out, nudged again, a rhythmic suggestion that drove me halfway wild before he’d even started.
My body clenched around nothing, greedy and impatient, and I bucked my hips, desperate for him. He groaned and, for a moment, dropped his forehead to mine, breathing me in as he cursed into my open mouth, “Fuck, you’re killing me.”
It was the second time he’d said that tonight. Did I really have the power to torture this man? Did he have any idea the torture he’d put me through all the years he’d been absent from my life?
I wrapped my legs around his waist and arched my back, tilting my hips up and using leverage to push him inside of me, but when he resisted, I froze and my legs fell down at his sides.
He released my arms immediately at my change in demeanor. “What’s wrong?”
“What about your back? I don’t want you to hurt your back.”
The grin of relief on his face felt like a promise, sealing my fate.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. This is good for it.
” He leaned down. “Consider it physical therapy,” he whispered against my neck as he slid inside of me in a forceful thrust, filling me completely.
Inch by inch, the stretch of him made my eyes flutter closed.
The initial burn faded to a sweet fullness.
When his hips met mine, and I had taken all of him, he held still.
Both of us trembled until we adjusted to the new sensation.
Then he pulled out, almost all the way, before pressing back in, slow and deliberate.
Each thrust was more intense than the last, the pressure building again.
We kept moving together, every shift and angle finding something new to spark a fresh wave of pleasure. I felt another orgasm sneaking up, sharp and insistent, and I tightened my legs around his hips, urging him to go faster.
I thought I had nothing left to give, but my body was rallying.
A whirl of pleasure was swirling in my core.
I dug my nails into his upper arms, needing something to hold onto, and rocked my hips in time with him.
He groaned again, low and helpless, and I felt the sound vibrate through both our chests as my inner walls pulsed around his meaty girth.
He responded to my body’s palpitations, driving in deeper, harder, faster as the couch protested with creaks. My back arched and I gasped his name.
I could feel myself getting close, my whole body contracting around him, and when he bit my earlobe and whispered, “Come for me,” I did, shattering again, only harder this time. I almost forgot to breathe as the world went white for a second.
Adam was right behind me, pounding into me through my aftershocks, his pace erratic and desperate.
He shuddered, and then he buried himself deep and froze, body taut as a bowstring.
I felt his release pulse inside me, and the intimacy of it made everything ache in the best possible way.
He collapsed on top of me, and I held him close as I ran my hands over his shoulders and through his hair.
He nuzzled against my neck. “Is your back okay?”
He nodded, and I felt his cock jump inside of me. “Never better.”
Lying on this couch, beneath Adam, him still buried deep inside me, basking in the afterglow, so many feelings, so many thoughts, so many impulses were battling, warring inside.
The weight of his body, the safety of his arms, the simplicity of this intimacy was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I knew it was unlike anything I’d ever have with anyone else.
With Adam, there was just a shortcut, an unspoken knowledge that no one else would ever understand.
We had a foundation, one look, one touch, one word, and we connected in a way that I never had with another human and knew I never would.
That was what made being with him so special, so different, so exceptional.
It was our souls. From the moment he sat down beside me when I was crying about my mom, my soul recognized him.
I didn’t believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I would swear we had spent lifetimes together before, hundreds of lifetimes, and that in every one we were meant to find one another.
That was what meeting him that day felt like.
Being with him, having sex with Adam, was more than just physical, it was like my soul was home.
He shifted up onto his forearms and looked down at me. I stared up at him, and he cupped my jaw, his thumb ran along my cheek, then his finger swiped just below my eye.
When he presented his fingertip to me, I saw that one of my eyelashes was balancing on it.
“I saved your life,” he joked.
I smiled, but really, I wanted to cry. This man was everything I wanted and more, and I knew now without a shadow of a doubt that his back was better. I needed to move out of the house next week, go back to my normal life. We’d get a divorce in a couple months, and we’d go back to being friends.
Some other woman would come in, raise his daughters, and would make him happy. They would be basking in his afterglow. Which was what I wanted. I didn’t want kids. That was my one and only rule breaker.
“Make a wish,” he said.
I wanted to say, “I wish we could stay married.”
That’s what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. We couldn’t stay married. And it was my fault.
“I wish we could stay like this…” I stopped myself from saying forever, but that’s what I wanted to say. I wanted to stay like this forever.
“Me too,” Adam agreed, his breaths coming in short pants.
I blew the eyelash from his fingertip, and I saw heat flash in his eyes as his nostrils flared. He leaned down and kissed my mouth gently, then moved to my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks. They were the softest, barely there brushes of his lips. This was not sex, this was making love.
My head was telling me to stop this, to go upstairs and go to bed, alone, before more damage was done to my already broken heart. Too bad my body wasn’t listening.