Chapter 12 #2
He swallows, visibly moved. “Then tell me what you need.”
“You,” I breathe. “All of you.”
Alex kisses me again, slower this time, as if tasting the moment rather than rushing it.
His weight settles carefully over me, warm and solid and achingly welcome.
I slide my hands down his back, feeling the tense line of muscle beneath my palms. When my fingers reach the waistband of his jeans, he makes a low sound that vibrates through both of us.
“Let me…” I whisper, fumbling a little.
He rises just enough for me to push his jeans down over his hips, and he kicks them away.
The thin cotton of his boxers does nothing to hide how much he wants me.
The sight sends a fierce, unexpected surge of confidence through me.
I lift one leg and brush my calf along his thigh. His breath catches sharply.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he mutters, half dazed.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I tease, surprising myself again.
He gives a breathless laugh, forehead dropping to mine. “Not even remotely.”
His lips merge with mine—deeper, hungrier—and the tension in my stomach coils tight. When I reach between us, brushing my fingers lightly against his hard cock through the fabric, he groans into my mouth. My whole body lights up at the sound.
He breaks the kiss just enough to speak. “I need a second,” he says, sitting back on his heels.
“I have condoms in my handbag,” I whisper. Admitting that I thought about it, that I had hoped this would happen, somehow feels powerful. Look at me taking what I want not just picking up the morsel that people throw at me.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, as if the night air has turned thinner. He reaches through the rear window for my bag, eyebrows lifting when he finds what I’d tucked inside.
“You came prepared,” he murmurs, voice low with something close to awe.
Heat rushes up my neck. “I thought… I might want to be.”
He pauses, looking at me like I’ve just handed him something fragile and precious. “Emma,” he says softly, “you have no idea what that means.”
I do, though. Because I feel it too. The shift. The trust. The want that’s no longer just physical.
He tears the wrapper, slides the condom on with a quickness that betrays how tightly he’s holding himself together. When he lowers himself over me again, his face is inches from mine. His thumb strokes my cheek, slow and gentle.
“Are you sure?” he asks again, giving me one last out.
“Yes,” I breathe, steady now. “I want you.”
Relief floods his eyes, followed by something darker. He kisses me once more, then guides himself into position. The first slow press of his cock steals my breath. He moves carefully, watching for any sign of discomfort. My nails dig lightly into his shoulders.
“More,” I whisper.
He groans and sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he fills me completely. The stretch perfect in a way that makes every nerve in my body hum. He presses his forehead to mine, breathing hard.
“Okay, I think I need another moment. Fuck, I don’t want this to be over,” he mutters, voice rough with restraint.
I stroke the back of his neck, my legs curling around his waist. “Take whatever moment you need.”
His laugh is strained but warm. “That’s the problem. I don’t want to take my time either.” His hips shift just enough to make my breath hitch. “You feel… incredible.”
The pleasure winds through me, deep and hot and blooming.
When he finally starts to move, slow at first, my whole body rises to meet him instinctively.
He laces his fingers with mine and pins our joined hands above my head, anchoring us both as he finds a rhythm that makes a fire spread through my veins. An all-consuming fire.
Every movement ignites more sparks. Every breath turns into a soft sound he swallows with his mouth. Every whispered curse from him makes the pleasure sharpen.
“Emma,” he groans, hips rolling harder now. “You’re… I can’t…”
Neither can I. The pressure coils tight inside me, a delicious ache building with every thrust. I hook my legs behind him, changing the angle, and the shock of pleasure rips a gasp from my throat. His eyes darken at the sound.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my mouth. “Do that again.”
I do. The sensation slams through me, fierce and blinding. His hand slips between us, fingers stroking the most sensitive part of me with devastating precision. The pleasure spikes so abruptly I cry out his name.
“Let go,” he groans again, thrusts turning desperate. “Come for me.”
And I do. The climax floods through me in an overwhelming crash. My body tightens around him and everything else disappears—sky, stars, breath, time. Just him. Only him.
He follows a heartbeat later with a shudder and a helpless sound that makes my toes curl. His body jerks against mine, heat pulsing deep inside the protection. He collapses over me, bracing himself so he doesn’t crush me, but keeping enough of his weight that I feel cocooned beneath him.
We stay like that for a long, long moment. His breath warm against my neck. My pulse gradually slowing. Our skin cooling in the night air but our bodies still tangled, still reluctant to let go.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are soft in a way that terrifies me and steadies me at the same time.
“You alright?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I say, and realise it’s the truest word I’ve spoken in years.
He kisses me once more, slow and lingering, before rolling gently to the side, disposing of the condom and pulling me against his chest.
And under the vast, silent, star-filled sky, I let myself believe—just for tonight—that this might be the beginning of something real.