Epilogue Human Evolutionary History #2
Holding his gaze, I turned us and guided him backward, using his shoulders as leverage, until he lay flat on the mattress.
Then I climbed over him, straddling his chest, and looked down at his face.
He gave me a small, crooked smile, his eyes half lidded, and for a second, I wanted to stay just like this forever.
But Andreas pulled my hips up, steady but gentle, guiding me with both hands on my ass so that I was perfectly positioned above his mouth.
I was suddenly aware of how exposed I was and where his gaze met my body.
Even in the haze of lust, I felt the hot knife-edge of excitement and fluttery nervousness.
He made a show of looking at me—everywhere, all at once—with such open hunger that I felt my excitement melt into something else, something languid and hot and needy.
He hummed his approval, the sound deep and resonant, and then he started, at first with a single, exploratory lick, so light my breath hitched. Then with a firmer, more purposeful repetition. He found my clit immediately and lavished it with his soft tongue and sucking lips.
When I shivered, he doubled down. When I panted, he added teeth, just a feather’s brush, then soothed the spot with his tongue again.
“Fuck,” I said between clenched teeth. Nothing in my body felt real anymore except the heat building between my legs and the way his hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady, making me feel like the entire world might tilt if he let go.
I wasn’t the only one unraveling. Beneath me, I could feel his body shift, the muscles in his arms flexing with every movement.
He let go of my left thigh and slid his hand up to my waist, then higher, until his palm pressed flat against my lower back, drawing me closer, refusing to give me an inch of wiggle room.
The certainty of his touch made my entire body clench.
My hips began to rock, small movements at first, then full-on grinding, and he took it in stride, adapting to every motion.
The room felt too hot, the air too thin.
Every sound became amplified—the slick, obscene noise of his mouth on me, my own whimpers, the soft give of the mattress beneath us.
At some point, I looked down and caught his eyes, and the intensity of his stare nearly undid me.
I realized he was watching me. Not just in the casual way, but like a man who’d waited very patiently, hoping for the chance to worship a woman he loved.
“God, Andreas,” I gasped. “You’re going to make me—”
He only groaned, pinching my nipples with just enough pressure to make my hips buck against his tongue. Every muscle in my legs went rigid. I clamped down on his head, holding him exactly where I needed him, and let my stomach twist tighter and tighter . . .
But in the very last moment, just before I toppled over, survival instinct (or maybe the desire to prolong the torture) kicked in. I released his head, tugged at his shoulders, and pulled myself away.
Andreas made a wounded noise, like I’d just canceled his birthday, but I could see the smile on his face, his lips and chin glossy. I slid down his body to straddle his hips, and lined him up with my entrance.
We locked eyes, a fossilized moment, even as I hovered above him, my thighs trembling with adrenaline and anticipation. He licked his lips, pupils blown wide. The head of his cock, slick and impossibly hot, kissed my folds.
He ran his hands up my thighs, gripping hard. “You are so fucking sexy,” he said, voice ragged, an octave lower than I’d ever heard him.
I looked down at him—at the lines of his body, the flex of his stomach, the sweat highlighting every plane and hollow.
“So are you,” I whispered.
His mouth tugged upward, a polite curve, but his eyes were almost feral.
Holding his gaze as I ground down against him, letting the friction draw both of us right to the edge of unbearable.
The moment was so loud with possibility it was honestly painful.
Then, holding him in place beneath me, I sank down slowly, every millimeter mapped against the deepest nerves in my body, and he arched his back and let out a sound I’d only ever heard from him right before he climaxed.
There was resistance, but also a perfect fit, and when I bottomed out, I was full in every sense of the word. Full of him, of the moment, of the knowledge that nothing about this could possibly be reversed or undone.
He let his head fall back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.
I’d never in my life felt so wanted. It was as if all waiting had been burned off in the heat of this chemical reaction, and what was left was only the pure, undeniable truth of our love and desire for each other.
I rocked my hips, at first tentative, finding the angle and the rhythm that would make both of us see stars.
His hands moved instinctively—one gripping my waist, the other skimming up my back, urging me forward until my breasts hovered just above his mouth.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the edge, and then soothed the bite with his tongue.
The dual sensation made my body clench around him, gripping so hard he groaned into my skin.
For a while, I lost myself in the friction and the heat, the rolling tension that made it impossible to tell where my body ended and his began.
The room smelled like sweat and sex and something sweeter than either.
My hair fell around us in a dark curtain, and I let it.
I wanted to be lost in this cave with him, forever.
Soon, however, Andreas’s body began thrusting up with a greedy rhythm, matching my pace and doubling it, his control slipping with every breath.
“You feel so good,” he said, and his accent was thicker now, words pressed out between clenched teeth. “I cannot—Sam, you are—God.”
I threw my head back and rode him harder, taking the compliment as fuel. My thighs were burning, my hands trembling as I braced myself on his chest. He was so beautiful. Lips parted, neck taut, eyes wide and awed.
His hands slid down to my ass, kneading and spreading me, guiding my hips just how he wanted them, as if he’d finally given himself permission to take what he needed.
For a second, I thought I might come right then and there, the pressure between my legs a taut, electric line.
I slowed my hips to keep the orgasm at bay, wanting to make this last at least a little longer.
I knew he was close, too—the flush blooming across his chest, the wildness in his grip, the way his breath kept catching in his throat.
I leaned down so our faces were inches apart. His hands framed my jaw, pulling me in for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and heat.
“Slow down,” I told him, panting into his mouth. “We have all night.”
He shook his head, refusing to listen. He was trembling, every muscle in his legs rigid, hips rolling up into me with urgency.
“You are so beautiful, I do not think I can—” But he never finished the thought, because suddenly he was saying something in a foreign language, a rush of syllables I couldn’t parse, and all the while his hands dug into my hips, holding me how he wanted, chasing the sensation to its inevitable conclusion.
He followed half a beat later, hips bucking wildly, head thrown back, the cords in his neck standing out as he spilled into me.
The sight of it, the pure abandon on his face, made my body clamp down again, a second orgasm rolling through just before I collapsed on his chest, both of us gasping, clutching at each other like castaways.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but our ragged breathing and the rapid thrum of his heart against my cheek.
But I soon discovered he wasn’t done with me. Not even close. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my mouth to his, kissing me deeply. I could taste myself on his tongue. He held me there, arms locked around my back, refusing to let go.
He rolled us with brute strength, switching our positions. Suddenly, I was on my back, pinned to the mattress, and he loomed over me, his body a furnace, his gaze still dark with need. Clearly, Andreas was already plotting the next move, the next game, and wanted to savor every second.
And a loud knock on the suite door ruined it.
I stiffened, blinking up at him, unsure if I’d imagined it, but then it came again. Insistent, louder.
Andreas’s hands were still all over me. He didn’t stop, just nuzzled my neck and started kissing me again, his mouth moving over my jaw, my ear, my shoulder. I could already feel him growing hard again against my thigh.
Elio’s voice, unmistakably aggrieved, called out, “Mr. Kristiansen. You are five minutes late for the next match!”
A shocked laugh tumbled out of me. I covered my mouth with one hand, trying to push him off with the other. But Andreas lifted his head and smiled, a wicked flash of teeth, and tugged my hands away. He kissed me again, this time gentler, almost sweet.
Turning my head to the side, I whisper-shouted, “You have another match!?” Part outrage, part pure disbelief.
He sighed, then yelled in the direction of the door, “Elio, I will be there in fifteen minutes.”
Elio’s voice returned, muffled but dramatic. “That will only leave you ten minutes for the match!”
“Then I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Andreas shot back, not missing a beat.
“Andreas!” I scolded.
“Shh. Do not worry, my love.” Andreas gazed down at me, eyes sparkling, his rapidly recovering erection nudging against my entrance as he said, “For this guy, I only need five minutes.”
Then he pushed inside me, filling me, his eyes glazing over just before he bent to my ear to whisper, “But for you, I think maybe a lifetime is not nearly enough.”