Chapter 3 #2
I go slack in his hands, and he cups my ass as I come down. My breath is still ragged as he crawls up my body like a predatory animal. I’m still twitching with the aftershocks of orgasm as he whips out a condom and sheaths himself.
I lick my lips, needing more. I want him inside me.
“What were you starting to say a second ago?” I tease, flicking the condom wrapper aside as it flutters to rest near my shoulder. “You didn’t come here to what, Ian?”
“To fuck you,” he growls. “I lied.”
“I’m glad.” I wrap my legs around him, urging him to take me.
He holds himself back again, and the phrase enthusiastic consent pulses through my brain. I love that he’s making sure.
“Tell me right now if you don’t want this,” he says.
I lick my lips, already feeling him at my entrance. “It’s what I want.”
Desperately, urgently—
“Oh!” I gasp as he starts to slide in. Just the tip, and then he watches me with molten eyes.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says. “Feel that?”
I nod, though I’m not sure what he means. All I can feel is the head of his cock, so thick and hard I’m squirming to get it inside me.
“Such a greedy little pussy,” he growls, offering me another inch. “It’s like you’re trying to grab me and pull me inside.”
“I am,” I gasp, clutching at his hips. “Please, Ian. Please fuck me.”
And then he’s all the way in. Oh my God, Ian Nolan is inside me, and I’ve never felt anything this fucking amazing in my life.
I wrap my legs around him as he drives into me, burying himself to the hilt.
There’s none of that timid probing, no easing in slowly to get used to each other.
Everything fits together like our bodies were engineered to connect just like this.
I fight to keep breathing, trying to get my bearings, trying not to pass out from the pleasure as he fills me completely.
Every nerve inside me jangles from the delicious friction of his body.
His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me with a tenderness that serves as a delicious counterpoint to the force of his thrusts, the power of his movements.
I drag my nails down his shoulder blades as my ankles twine around his calves, trying to contain all this sensation.
I clutch at his hair again, craving that contrast of softness against my palms and all the hardness inside me.
“You feel so good,” he breathes against my ear. “So fucking good, Sarah.”
Something about the way he says my name shoots a thousand tiny rockets of pleasure through me, or maybe that’s the way he’s moving. Faster now, more intense. His forearms are solid anchors on either side of my head, and he drives into me with a primal fierceness that makes me scream.
There’s a swarm of honeybees moving in my chest, and they buzz into a great big ball and head straight for the spot where my body is joined with Ian’s. Missionary isn’t a position that’s ever made me come this fast, but I’ve never been fucked by Ian Nolan before.
“Oh, Christ,” I gasp as the fist of pleasure grabs hold of me and yanks me over the edge. “Don’t stop.”
He responds by shoving one forearm under my hips to tilt me at that perfect angle. He slams into me, nailing my G-spot at the precise moment I feel him start to give.
“Jesus.” His voice is ragged, but he never breaks rhythm. Just thrusts into me again and again until we’re both wrung dry like twisted sponges.
We go very still afterward. Both of us are breathing like we’ve run a marathon, but neither of us speaks. I don’t know if we’re more mind-whacked from the pleasure or from the shock of how this unfolded ten minutes after seeing each other for the first time in a decade.
Suffice it to say, this isn’t how I usually catch up with old college pals.
I breathe deeply as I circle my palms on his bare back like I’m reminding myself who he is. What we’ve just done. I smile against his cheek, giddier than I’ve ever been on a birthday. Not even the year my mom saved all summer to buy me the Furby I begged for.
Ian must feel me stirring under him, because he rolls to his side and pulls me against him so we’re facing each other.
I can’t believe there’s room for both of us on this couch, but he somehow makes us fit.
His cheeks are ruddy and lined with red-gold stubble, and I lift a hand to rub his jaw and feel the scrape against my palm.
“Well that was different for us.” I’m trying for cool, but my voice comes out wobbly.
He grins and turns his head to plant a kiss on my palm. Then he reaches over me to grab the fuzzy blue blanket off the back of the couch. “Happy birthday,” he says as he pulls it around us, tucking one edge under my hip.
“Happy birthday to you, too.” I smile back. “Two days late.”
“Well worth the wait.”
I love that there’s none of that “was it good for you” bullshit. It was fucking amazing, and he knows it. There’s no need to stroke egos or play shy or talk about what this means for the future.
It was incredible sex, plain and simple. I’m grinning like a girl who just unwrapped Barbie and the Barbie Dreamhouse as Ian finishes folding the blanket around us and nestling me into the crook of his arm.
His green eyes are softer now. Less primal. This is the Ian I remember from college, my study buddy, my camping pal, my closest confidant.
“So,” he says, brushing the hair off my forehead as casually as if he’s done it a thousand times before. “Want to get married?”