Chapter 5 Total Eclipse of the Heart #3
but down here, it’s quiet.
Just Bonnie Tyler and my slamming heart.
His breath is steady. Mine is not.
Mine’s fucking feral.
Then his hand leaves me.
He brings his two fingers to his mouth,
and sucks them slow.
I narrow my eyes. “You really lickin’ your fingers clean? For me?”
“Yeah—” His mouth finds my ear, his wet fingers find my thigh. “Sonny, sei tu. Capisci? Not just some fuckin’ girl.”
Then he moves my panties to the side,
watching my face.
His head rests heavy on mine,
heat from him bleeding into me.
Then everything comes to a standstill.
Seconds pass,
a lifetime hiding between them,
the wait for his touch unbearable.
We’re two bodies thawing in a slow drip…
Drip.
Drip.
I stir in his arms, desperation clawing at me.
Drip.
I drop my head back against his shoulder,
craving it.
I’m losing my goddamn mind.
And he smiles against my skin,
savoring this, making me suffer.
And every second keeps fucking dripping.
I grind my teeth,
roll my head from side to side on his shoulder, tormented.
I don’t fucking beg.
But this isn’t begging.
It’s survival.
“Andrew,” I breathe.
It’s the only word I can find.
And I hate how easily it comes out.
Then.
Finally.
A slow, devastating stroke.
A warm, slender middle finger
slipping between my slit,
sliding up, gathering wetness.
A wrecking drag, so unhurried,
so painfully perfect.
I choke on the sound that escapes me.
His breath shatters against my skin,
shredding across my cheek.
Then his jaw clenches, his muscles tense.
The veins in his forearm pop from holding back.
He’s barely grazing me now.
His hand’s shaking.
His lips brush my ear.
“You—fuck, Sonny—”
It comes out hot.
Destroyed.
His voice drops into raspy.
“I don’t—Yeah. Okay.”
A broken laugh leaves him.
Then his finger drags back through me.
He bows his head,
pressing his weight into me,
breath coarse.
His callused finger glides up,
drawing heavy circles over my clit.
A throbbing flame spirals through me.
A slow-building heat wave.
Another sound cracks out of me—
too delicate to be a sob, too broken to be a sigh.
I fist his pants at the back of his thigh,
nails digging in, desperate for more.
I’m convinced if I let go, he’ll disappear,
and this moment’ll slip through my fingers.
“Fuck—” I groan, looking back at him.
“How do you know my body?
“And why you usin’ it against me?”
When the words escape,
they’re just above a whisper.
His mouth falls to my collarbone,
his breath hot against my skin.
“Same way your body knows me.”
He says it so simply, as if it didn’t make my heart fucking weep. My next breath loses its balance and skids across my lips.
He notices,
presses a wet kiss against my temple.
As if he’s saying—It’s the truth. You know it, too.
And his heavy finger stays on my clit, unlocking me, a rhythm so steady, so fucking cruel, heat licks up my spine, blows smoke into my stomach.
I squeeze my eyes shut,
and his lips move behind my ear.
Kissing. Breathing. Fuck.
His middle finger glides lower,
through the heat-soaked flesh,
trailing down to my opening,
where I never let anyone.
And I should stop him.
But then he pauses, pressing the pad of his finger against my soaked entrance.
And his entire body shudders.
His muscles pulse.
His breathing falls heavier.
He circles the rim soft.
My hips bury deeper into his, craving him.
So he pushes in
a single finger,
one slow, dizzying inch at a time.
His breath goes ragged,
then cuts out altogether.
A low groan rumbles in his chest,
his hips nailing into me,
cock hard and jerking against my ass.
The rest of his muscles tense with mine.
Two bodies, bound tight.
“Jesus Christ…” he whispers.
I take his finger deeper, squeezing tightly around him,
wanting him to feel me, wanting him to feel everything.
His finger pushes in all the way.
And he stops, with his palm cradling my pussy.
His mouth parts against my skin.
“Fuck…” he tries, then stops. “You—you feel—”
A breathless, half-laugh breaks free from him.
He clenches his jaw, tilting his head against mine.
“Sonny—I don’t—Fuck, I can’t even think straight.”
Every nerve I’ve got wraps around his finger, begging him to stay.
And when he slides out, my thighs clench on instinct to stop him.
A whimper catches in my throat.
Then he sinks back in—deeper.
And I hold on—tighter.
His hips shudder—again.
His cock grinds up against me,
aching for more.
He groans, low from his throat,
muttering words I can’t quite catch,
his whole body trying not to come just from being inside me like this.
Another stroke,
and it drags a spark from somewhere deep.
My thighs tremble.
I’m slipping under.
One finger, nothing more.
It’s all he gives me.
It’s all he wants inside me.
One finger,
hugging the curve and fucking me slowly.
He’s intoxicated,
his chest hammering my spine.
He pins me against his erection
to steady himself,
to slow down.
His other hand leaves the wall
and slides up, up, up my chest…
Until his palm is at my throat,
holding me flush to him.
Then his mouth finds the base of my neck,
kissing, sucking, losing himself there.
My pulse flicks hard against his thumb.
And God, I want him.
More of him.
More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
I want to hear him.
See him.
Taste him.
Feel him come undone in my hands.
I glance back.
Our eyes meet.
And the second I turn in his arms,
his hands follow.
My back hits the wall.
He hits me—
body to body, chest to chest.
His helpless smile lands against my forehead.
His fingers barely breathe before they’re back between my thighs.
Stroking me.
Pushing inside me.
Filling me again.
His cock is straining painfully tight against his zipper.
I'm fighting the urge to touch him.
I’ve never cared to touch anyone.
I tell myself it’s curiosity.
I lie to myself because it’s not.
But I don’t exactly know what it is.
I clutch the back of his neck.
I pull him close, nails sinking.
His forehead melts into mine—
burning, undone, barely holding on.
The red light cuts across his face again,
hooded eyes shadowed, lips lit like sin.
I tug at his hair, kiss his jaw,
ghost my fingers across the length of his cock,
tracing the shape of him over his pants.
Then I press my palm up against him.
Andrew chokes on his next breath,
hips twitching forward,
finger faltering inside me.
His other hand flies down between us and catches my wrist. “Whoa, what—”
His brows draw together.
He half-laughs, shaken.
As if his brain can’t catch up.
His fingers flex against my wrist.
“You’re seriously thinkin’ about me right now?”
I blink up at him.
“When I said I want you…
“I meant all of you.
“In it.
“With me.”
Then he’s somewhere else,
his chest rising,
his head tipping,
processing this.
Another shaky, stunned laugh tumbles from his mouth. “Dio mio....” He presses his forehead to mine, his thumb brushing over my pulse. “You want me like that, huh? Not just… this, but both of us in it?”
“Well, yeah, Drew…”
A rough breath slips out of him,
disbelief submerged in his eyes.
“Sonny—c’mon, what the hell you doin’ to me?”
He pauses again, wets his lips,
looking down at me through a heavy-lidded gaze.
My smile is teasing. “I got you.
“Just say the word,
“and we can stop at anytime—”
“Get the fuck outta here.” His grin fully breaks through,
his laugh turned wrecked.
His fingers slip from my wrist.
And then his hand threads into my hair,
tugging me forward,
his mouth crashing into mine.
Deep and slow and endless…
His tongue sweeps through me, stealing my next breath.
His finger curls inside me.
I gasp into his mouth, and he takes that too.
Everything. He takes everything.
And I let him.
My hand sinks back over his cock,
a featherlight drag up his length.
He shivers, jaw clenching,
forehead sinking against mine,
eyes slipping shut.
I palm him fully,
needing to hold him in my hand.
His cock twitches,
the heat of him pulsing through his jeans.
His hips press closer,
chasing my hand,
and his throat bobs,
trying to swallow back a groan.
I stroke once and squeeze him,
making his exhale tremble.
Another graze, another squeeze.
And then a third time.
A fourth.
His hand shakes between my thighs.
My lips brush over his.
“Look at you, shaking,” I breathe into his mouth. “You that close?”
His throat catches, the words stuck.
I touch his jaw, taste his wet cinnamon breath.
“C’mon, I want you to come for me.
“Don’t hold back.”
His hips stutter, and he grabs mine.
“Jesus, Allison—don’t—”
The rest dies against my lips when I stroke him again.
“You can let go here,” I whisper.
“I got you, remember?”
His breath breaks in half.
Jagged inhales. Curse-filled exhales.
He can barely hold on to my lips.
Another stroke,
and his hips grind forward, giving in.
He jerks,
pulses,
then wet blooms and seeps through denim,
hot and all him.
His mouth collapses on mine,
a low, muffled "fuck" soaking into my lips.
His finger freezes inside me,
the rest of him trembling.
And his body twitches once more,
disarmed and undone.
That sound he made—
that broken fuck—
it’s gonna haunt me.
His mouth falls away, and his eyes meet mine.
I can see it on his face, he wants to apologize.
Like coming was something he wasn’t supposed to do.
As if I’m not soaked around his fingers,
undeniably turned on by what just happened.
He opens his mouth.
Only air comes out.
One that tastes like guilt.
I pull him closer.
“You came for me? Because of me?
“That’s—yeah. Insanely hot.”
His eyes bounce between mine,
chest heaving, words gone.
I grab his jaw, kiss the corner of his mouth.
“If that’s you wanting me? Fuck... I wanna see what happens when you have me.”
A rough breath slams out of him.
Then a crooked, stunned smile appears.
And there goes my hand,
drifting to his belt.
His breath catches,
his hand shooting to my wrist again.
“Fuck. Okay.” He laughs, breathy.
“So you really ain’t stoppin’, huh?”