12. Ephemeral
Chapter twelve
Ephemeral
F or the first few seconds, I think I’ve made a mistake and misread all the signs. His body, my body, and the stuff that’s been happening from the first time we set eyes on each other. There’s always been a wild spark ready to combust. Dislike is as strong as like in many cases. You can be physically attracted to a person even if you don’t fully understand why or don’t even want to be.
That was me when I first met Thorn, but not now.
He pretends to be all heartless and hard. I think he might even believe that. But after what he just told me, there’s no way I’ll ever think that about him again.
We were both rejected, in a way, by our families. It was so much more different for me than it was for him. He still cares. Deeply. I don’t know if he’s scared of making connections with other people or if he’s just been too busy, but he also seems like me that way. Always surrounded by people but so alone.
I don’t think Thorn has allowed himself a moment of self-care or self-love since he was probably a little kid and didn’t even know what that meant. He grew up far too fast, long before he faked his age and did what he had to do in order to keep his family together. I saw the doubt in his eyes when he talked about his mom and brothers. He wants to contact them so badly, but he’s worried they still won’t want him, even though that was never the way it was in the first place.
Kissing is intimate, and intimacy can be comforting. I’m not sure this is the right comfort, the kind of comfort either of us needs, but maybe it’s all we need, and our brains haven’t clued into the fact.
After the first few seconds of nothingness, no response whatsoever, just me kissing the ever-loving loons out of Thorn, he responds.
Holy taco-smelling toe beans, does he ever.
I know thinking and overanalyzing is a bad habit, so right now I stop doing that and just feel.
I feel his lips moving against mine and his hands wrapping around my waist as he groans low and soft in his throat.
God, this man. He makes me crazy. All kinds of crazy. He’s a golden retriever in a stacked and feral body, hiding a heart of pure gold.
I savor the taste, which is warm and a little bit like licorice and spice, like a comforting cup of tea on a cold night. It is a cold night. It might be hot during the day, but this close to the water and with the wind blowing like this, it’s cold enough that even in Thorn’s hoodie, I was all goosebumps before I started kissing him.
He pulls me in close as he starts to attack my mouth. His heat spreads through me, pebbling my skin. It’s not just his body heat that flows through me. It’s the kiss, his lips working against mine, the finest mystery, the hottest fire. I can barely breathe, but who really needs to when they have the world’s hottest man giving them the hottest kiss of a lifetime?
My other hand joins the first one at his neck, and I brace myself against his hard body, holding onto him like the restless Pacific Ocean just beyond is going to rise up and sweep us away. If it comes, I’m not even sure a huge wave can separate us. We’ll go under together.
I think we might be under right now.
Fire or water, drowning or burning.
“House?” Thorn grunts, panting, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. He goes back to plundering my mouth like an expert pirate. Like my lips were made just for this, waiting for him to come and lay claim to them.
I taste him, take him into my mouth, and let his tongue stroke mine and ignite fires all throughout the center of me. I’m not normally the one who takes the lead. I never did much of this as a teenager, and then my mom got sick, and I lived that life. Anyway, my boyfriend really wasn’t much more than casual at the time. We were young, and neither of us thought we’d end up together. When he bailed because he couldn’t take what I was going through, I never blamed him. He didn’t put me off dating and sex. I just…haven’t since we broke up.
It’s been a while, and maybe that’s what makes me so ferocious. I’m the one who bites first. Gently and playfully, grasping his bottom lip with my teeth and working it, then licking with my tongue and sucking on the spot. He nips me back, unrestrained and not-so-gently, but not near enough to truly hurt.
I wish he had more hair for me to bury my fingers in like he does to mine, but the close-cropped strands are softer than I ever would have bet. They’re ten times softer than mine, but dying your hair and not having uber-expensive shampoo and conditioner do a number on it.
He tilts my face back and kisses me so deep and senseless that I forget all about hair. My heart forgets everything but this man and what my mom used to say.
Hearts get sick. They forget how to work. They weaken, and they sicken, and one day, they stop beating, but they never, ever forget how to love. There’s infinite room in the heart. Room for forgiveness, for joy, for passion. Room for the whole universe.
I’ve opened myself up to so many people over the years, but never just for that special someone.
Is that what I’m doing? Is this kiss a door to the heart?
I stop, ostensibly for a breath, but really, it’s so I can gather myself and get my shit under control. I think I might be losing my mind.
I’m afraid if I walk through that door, I can’t walk back out. It’s hard to separate what my body wants from what’s the right decision. Then there’s the right decision for tonight and the right decision for tomorrow.
We have lives we’re not willing to leave, and now our business with each other is basically finished. We don’t ever have to see each other after today if we don’t want to. What’s worse? A single night where you give your all to someone and walk away in the morning, or a night you didn’t and transfer that giving and all to regretting you didn’t?
Regret sounds infinitely worse.
I’ve never been into protecting my heart because I’ve learned how to shatter and rebuild.
I just haven’t had the opportunity to do that in this way.
I know I can take a hit. I can take the hurt. I can walk away and hold the memories as a treasure inside me.
“Are you alright?” Thorn asks, his deep, velvet voice wrapping around me.
I stare right at his lips. His brow cocks, which makes my face get hot. He stares back at me, though. He wants me as badly as I want him. Can we want each other even after knowing we’re going our separate ways in the morning?
“I don’t want this to be a misunderstanding,” I say. One painful misunderstanding has already eaten him from the inside out for years.
“Neither do I.”
I brush my knuckles against his cheek and hold them there. His eyes glisten—intense, deep, and half-feral. “Okay.”
“Let me carry you inside.”
“I can walk,” I murmur.
He doesn’t try to convince me otherwise. I don’t like the damsel thing. It might be romantic, getting swept off your feet, but that’s not my version of romance. Getting kissed senseless to the soundtrack of the ocean under the moonlight? Now that’s romantic.
Thorn sets his hand tentatively on my hip like he’s asking a question. I brush my fingers over his and tighten them, guiding them around me so we can walk side by side across the massive yard.
He lets us in the way I came out, through the back sliding door. Then, he locks it behind us and kisses me. I pull him up against me while I swallow a gasp of delight. I open my mouth for him and let him pick me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist after I’ve half climbed him like he’s one of those alluring and lovely trees in the backyard isn’t the same as being carried. At least not the way I detest. There’s nothing distressed about the way I claw at his neck and shoulders through his shirt or how I open my mouth to him and kiss him just as ravenously. That’s not damsel-like. That’s holding my own and giving as good as I get.
He takes me upstairs on the fancy glass and metal staircase. The house is like the ocean, dark and endless, but it’s so empty—I mean minimalistic—that there’s nothing to distract us as we pass. I’ve seen the art. I’ve seen the sculptures. I don’t even notice them now.
The only thing I notice is Peach Lips on the end of my bed since I left the lamp on in my room. She’s all curled up, a happy cat.
Thorn stops. He knows I need to check-in. No matter what’s happened between us, the complicated feelings, the way things have changed, the wars and the ruination and the rebuilding, the rebranding, the change, and the challenges, if there was ever a time that I thought he didn’t care, I was wrong.
He does. He does care.
And not just about his company either.
He has this whole part of him that he doesn’t show or give to the world.
I realized it when I went to his office, and not a single person there had one bad word to say about where they worked. If someone hates their company or their job and their life as a result, you’ll know, even if they don’t open their mouth and say it, but that wasn’t the vibe I got at all. Thorn might be a strict boss who runs a tight ship, but that’s because of what he does. There’s not much room for error, and people’s safety often hangs in the balance. But being a total bosshole? That’s not his style.
After making sure Peach Lips is okay, I kiss him back, my signal for him to move past my room and take me to his.
I think.
I’ve done casual snooping of his house, but the one door was locked. I immediately knew who it undoubtedly belonged to.
He stops in front of that very one, and I’m not even kidding when he presses his thumb to the small screen on the wall right beside the door. It’s like a movie when the door clicks open.
He kisses me roughly as he makes his way inside. The one window is open a crack, letting in the outdoor air even though the place is probably one hundred percent perfectly temperature controlled. The aesthetic is the same ultra minimalistic as the rest of the house. The far wall is black, but I can see where the panels probably open up into a closet or a door for the ensuite bathroom, if there is one. It’s a huge room, but it looks mostly deserted, with just a big California King bed with immaculate dark black covers and huge pieces of white and black art on the walls.
Love is knowingly being free in a world of constraints. It might only last for a few minutes, but in those minutes, you’ll find true happiness.
My mom also told me that even though she never had a conventional love story. At least not a romantic one, but she did have a great love. The love of her life was me. She transferred all that perfect love to me. She chose to have me, to raise me. She wanted me. She gave me all of her heart.
I’ve never been truly free in my life.
Even if this isn’t love, and even if it only lasts for a moment, I’d like to know what it’s like.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, I race over to the bed and jump up on it. Standing right in the middle, I whip off Thorn’s hoodie. It’s crazy that it fits him without any room to spare, but on me, it looks like a tent. Then I pull my oversized T-shirt over my head and slip out of my shorts. They’re pajamas, so of course, I went sans underwear and bra.
I send it all sailing past Thorn, and the clothes land on the floor in different spots.
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
All the blinds are down, and I bet the windows are tinted, knowing how this man likes his privacy. There’s not that much light in here, just a soft glow from a lava lamp on top of the dresser.
Hold it all up. How am I only seeing that now ? It’s not on, so it’s only a glowy outline, but I know it when I see it.
“Oh my god, you have a lava lamp?” This man won’t even feature on a list of people who like funky retro things.
Thorn stares at me, and I stare back. We’re not doing soul telepathy. He’s looking at me like I’ve just jumped up on his bed and stripped off all my clothes.
Right.
Jesus.
I’m standing here utterly naked.
He looks like he doesn’t know where to look. But I can tell he wants to look because he’s having a hard time tearing his eyes away. Finally, they fly up to my face, but then they drop back down before flying back up again.
I’m not exactly a very outgoing person. Anything with Peach Lips, I’ve trained myself to do. But this right here? Untrained. Very, very untrained.
“Uh, never mind. The lava lamp doesn’t matter right now.”
“You matter.”
I melt a little because he doesn’t add right now . That might be the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.
I’m starting to feel mega awkward up here on the bed, so I crook my finger in a come hither gesture like I’m not, and thankfully, Thorn chooses this one time to obey without question. He walks over, wrenching at the buttons of his shirt and sending them flying—holy fuck, you hear about that all the time, but it’s so much crazier experiencing it.
He wrestles the shirt off, which causes a series of not-so-minor explosions to detonate in my lady bits. It’s probably a relief for the poor shirt too. It’s probably tailor-made to be a perfect fit, but even so, all those huge muscles and vast manliness probably do a number by testing the limits of endurance for the fabric. And don’t even get me started on the buttons.
Yes, I’ve seen his chest before. I’ve wondered about the lack of tattoos, seeing as other people in the same line of work would typically be covered. I’ve seen his perfect pecs, the huge muscles, the forearm porn, the veins, the perfect squares and blocks and ridges all encased in that bronzed velvet flesh in perfect god-man-ness, but this is different.
The first time, that image went straight to the part of the memory that is solely reserved for fantasies I can draw on later. This time, there’s no fantasy involved.
I’m getting wrapped up in strong arms and taken down to the softest comforter, and it’s all real. This man who looks like a god, who encases his sweet, tender, bruised heart in a wall of muscle, stone, and the willpower to keep on clawing out survival even when he’s long past that point…he chose me. He’s turned on by me. He wants me.
It’s not easy to grasp, but the evidence is very obvious, especially because the tackling to the bed thing just involved him parting my legs and wedging his thick thigh between mine to spread them open. They’re spreading. My god, are they ever. I’m so eager to make room for his massive form. I’m painfully ready, wild for it. We’ve talked about so many different types of magic, but not dick magic. If it’s real, I want it. I’m pretty sure this man’s cock will put the wonder in wonderful and the holy fuck, oh my god, in orgasm.
His hand travels up my thigh and parts my legs further. He’s still wearing his pants and keeping the hard ridge of his cock away from my center, but as he shifts and positions himself right in front of my very naked center, I can see the bulge there when I look down.
Holy shit, talk about testing the limits of the fabric.
“You have a perfect pussy, Ephemeral. So beautiful.”
“I—I…” Words aren’t my strong suit right now. Not when his face is so close that I can feel his hot breath on the inside of my thighs.
“I’m going to taste you. You’re so hot already, so wet for me. So perfectly pink.”
“That’s just dirty talk now,” I pant, spiraling out of control.
“Yes. Do you like your nipples being touched?”
“I…guess so.”
“Can you do that for me?”
That rough but gentle question makes me so freaking hot that it’s all I can do not to arch off the bed already. I run my fingers along my breasts until they hit my nipples. I roll over them slowly, pinching lightly and enjoying the shivery sensation that hits me right between the legs. When I touch myself or use a vibrator, I don’t exactly go for the nipples first, so it’s new.
“Spread your legs wider for me, Ephemeral.”
“Are you going to issue orders the whole time?”
“Do you like it?” he rasps.
“I’m more of a doer than a good girl. You have my permission to pleasure me as you see fit.”
His eyes spark, and holy shit, hallelujah, I think I’ve properly awoken the beast.
And despite what I said, I open my legs a little wider until it almost hurts. I keep my eyes wide open and watch as he kisses my mound. He runs his finger through my wet folds, starting at the top and heading lower until he dances around my entrance. My hips roll up as my eyes roll back into my head. I raise my arms and press them against the headboard, which is something upholstered. I’m already getting the sense that I’m going to have to brace myself.
He finds a spot that’s not my entrance and isn’t anywhere near more taboo spots, and then he gives me the slightest amount of pressure. I didn’t know that was even a thing. But the strange sensation makes my hips buck up. With his other hand pinning me down to the bed, they promptly flatten, and that’s when he gives me the first taste of heaven.
His tongue, my clit. Lower. Teasing me, whipping me, and tasting me, all while his fingers do devastating things to me lower.
He lashes my clit a few times while his finger circles my entrance but doesn’t push inside. He parts me and licks down my center and then keeps going, spreading me apart with his fingers so he can tease my entrance with his tongue.
It makes me shake, and my hips roll. And now that he’s not holding me down, it’s like a tsunami washing through me. My muscles tighten, waiting for the explosion.
He’s good. I’m apparently so ready that it won’t take long.
My one foot comes off the bed and finds his shoulder before bracing against it. He grunts when it slips a little lower, digging into his back. I had no idea backs could be so muscular. Is a six-pack there possible? A back pack?
I’m already about to set a world record for the fastest climax, and that’s before he goes back to my clit and starts licking it into a clitpocalypse. There’s nothing clit-teasing about it. He dives in straight for destruction. He uses parts of his tongue I didn’t even know could be used for this, and then fastens his lips around me and proves he’s the world’s best kisser, no matter where he’s kissing.
I stop pushing against the headboard, get my other foot up onto his shoulder, and lift my hips shamelessly in the air.
“Fuck yes.” He scoops his hands under my ass and digs his fingers in to bring me to his face so he can devour me.
I grasp the covers, clawing my hands into them as the first shockwave detonates. It hits my middle and fractures out, drenching the rest of me and painting me in light. I shake violently, unable to say anything at all as the pleasure wrings me out.
“H—holy lunar lava lamps,” I hiss shakily after while I’m still trembling.
He kisses the top of my pussy and raises his head. “I know you said just do it, but I need permission to wreck you.”
“Wreck me?” Why has nothing ever sounded so good? “Oh, you mean the size difference.” I shiver when I contemplate that. Obviously, he’s aware I’m so much smaller, and he’s so much larger. All. Over.
I blink up at him, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he’s already been wrecking me since the first time I set eyes on him. He’s invaded my mind, nearly ruined my sanity, and crept into the fantasies I’m not supposed to be having. His rock-hard ass in literally any set of pants is going to live rent-free in my head, taking up a significant amount of gray matter for the foreseeable future.
I want to know what it’s like to be enveloped in those rock-hard arms. To have that wall of muscle and his massive body surrounding me. My whole body is electric with the need to have him inside me. I’ve been buzzing for far too long already. I don’t know what our lives hold for us, even as soon as tomorrow, because we have two different realities.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t want to think about letting him go, even though I can’t keep him. He’s not an adoptable pet. He’s not ready to belong to someone, and neither am I.
“Hey.” He moves up my body and kisses my neck and then my chin.
I keep my eyes closed, running my hands down his shoulders before I grasp biceps so big that they might as well be not-so-small tree trunks.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I promise you that I only have an average-sized dick, and when used slowly and responsibly, it brings only maximum enjoyment.”
My lips twitch. “Liar.”
“Not about the maximum enjoyment part.” He turns his face, his stubble scraping over my jaw deliciously, his hot breath painting my ear. “It can also stay safely in my pants for maximum enjoyment.”
“Yeah, mine. Not yours.”
“Yeah.” His hand skims down my side, avoiding my breasts, and rests on my hip. “But I’m more than okay with that. If you’re not ready or you don’t want to do anything else, that’s fine. I want to do what you want.”
What do I want?
In her last week, my mom told me to find something I love, and then working hard at it won’t ever feel like work at all. It’s clichéd advice, but I tried. I found something that paid the bills, and I turned my love of animals into something that can help the rest of the world. I met Peach Lips, and we’re a team doing it together.
But do I want to do it forever?
Help the world, help animals, and love Peach Lips, yes.
But is doing cat cons and constantly being on social media what I really want to do with my life? Can I be an animal advocate and still live my own dreams? What even are they? And how do I get from here to there if I can’t even fathom what it is I want to do with my life?
Anyway, this isn’t the time to think about it.
“I…” That’s all I can get out before my throat closes up.
Thorn nods like a really jacked, sage wonder man. He brushes his knuckles down over my jaw and tilts my face up. “We should just take a minute.”
“I don’t need a minute.”
But then those massive arms close entirely around me, hauling me in against his chest as he settles with his head beside mine on the pillows. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long few weeks, a few months, and a few years. Have I been happy? Yes, absolutely. But have I also been stressed, scared, sad, exhausted, and doubtful? Yes to that too.
“Sometimes, we all just need a minute.” Thorn’s rich, deep voice drifts into my ear as his warmth pours into me.
It feels so good to be held. It’s so, so good that I can feel my eyes getting wet. I wriggle back against him, craving more, and I feel the hard line of his cock wedge between my butt cheeks. I just had an earth-shaking orgasm, but I want more. I want to feel him inside me. I want him to feel good too.
I turn around and find his mouth in the dark. I slip my hands over his shoulders and dig my nails in as I plaster my body against his. There’s so much more of him than there is of me. He’s so freaking massive, and my god, it’s so hot to be dwarfed by him like this. He kisses me roughly, and I give it back to him just as roughly and desperately. I stroke his tongue, and we get hotter and hotter until I break the kiss and move my mouth to his jaw. I kiss over his stubbled chin and down his neck. I love that he growls again, unable to help himself.
I’m not gentle there either, scraping my teeth over his skin. I kiss a path to one perfect pec and circle his nipple with my tongue.
“Holy fuck, Ephemeral.”
He echoes my movement, circling my nipple and pinching, but he doesn’t stop there. His fingers trace my folds and press into my clit. I mewl, digging my nails harder into his shoulder.
“Please take off your pants, Thorn.”
“Fuck,” he grunts. “You sound so pretty saying please.”
This man has hidden talents because while on his side, he gets his pants undone and manages to tear them away. Then, he wriggles again, freeing himself from his boxers.
I get my hand on his cock before he does, and I stroke down the thick, perfect length of him. He wasn’t kidding about this. It’s straight past cucumber and into zucchini territory. Maybe the eggplant emoji really is onto something.
I can’t see him properly in the dark, but my hand isn’t telling any lies. He’s thick and hot, his skin velvet soft, with no huge veins popping out all over. Gorgeous. I know he’d have a lovely pleasure stick if I could see it in the light.
I circle him hard with a closed fist and pump my hand up and down his length. He gets wet, beads of precum rolling from the swollen tip onto my hand so I can spread it down his whole length.
“Eff,” he groans. Part of my name, I think, and not his G-rated version of fuck, though it could be either.
“I’m on the pill. I never went off of it, even though I…well…there hasn’t been anyone for years.”
“Me too.”
“You’re on the pill? I wasn’t aware they—”
He grabs my ass, flips us around, and hoists me on top. “Saucy. I like that.”
I grab his cock again, which makes his hips surge up. Then I run my hand up and down his length again and again, loving the way his body rises to meet me. He trembles beneath me. Me, who has to be half his weight and so much smaller.
He lets me have my way with him, but he’s not letting me off easy. He tangles his fingers in my hair and brings my mouth to his, meeting me halfway. His chest crushes against mine, my hard nipples mash into his hard muscles, and my feet extend out behind him, unfolding and digging into the sheets. His cock is trapped against my stomach, still in my hand. He punishes my mouth, kissing me breathlessly and then further, making literal bright spots burst in my eyes.
I need oxygen, and he lets me have it before he kisses the hell out of me again.
I love that when I stroke his cock, wrap my hand around the tip, and press my thumb along the ridge, along all those sensitive spots, he gasps against my lips.
I wriggle out of his arms, and when I look up at him and see the bright question in his eyes, it almost breaks my heart.
I’m so going nowhere.
Nowhere but down to his lap.
“Ephemeral?”
I lower my hand to the base of his cock. Not that his cock needs any holding because he’s so hard that it’s standing right up in the air, but because there’s no way I’m going to be able to take all of him into my mouth.
My tongue snakes out and tastes him along his tip. The flavor of him bursts in my mouth, and now I’m the one who groans and hums as my legs slam together to ease the ache there. How is it possible to be this tortured and horny already?
I take him into my mouth, just the tip at first. It’s almost impossible to get my lips closed over him because he’s like a freaking jawbreaker. He might be beautiful, but this could actually be dangerous. I take him as far as I can into my mouth anyway, ignoring the pain in my jaw. I don’t go back far enough to gag myself. I pull my hand up his shaft instead, working him with my hand and mouth in tandem. I make sure my tongue covers every inch of him, working his shaft and his tip as I move my mouth over him, back and forth.
My free hand isn’t doing anything, so I gently fondle his balls. They’re perfect too—these poor balls that took a hit from some little punk just for me. Fucking Pissgate. None of it was Thorn’s fault. I can’t imagine how he felt reading some of those comments. I hope he never did. But I did. And now it just makes me mad that anyone could assume this man is capable of anything close to that. He was just trying to do his job. Trying to keep Peach Lips and me safe and my booth clean. For free, out of a sense of honor that most people have lost long ago.
I feel the urge to apologize to him for that. For all of it. For ever being angry. For standing in the kitchen while he iced his junk and flipping him off. For being cruel. I asked him if he ever wanted a family of his own, thinking that someone like him, horrible and callous, should never reproduce. That was horrible on a whole different level, even if I didn’t mean it. I didn’t even know him. There was no way I should have dug knives into his skin the way I did.
“Thorn?” I raise my head and look up. I can’t be silent about it any longer. I can’t just make it up to him with my tongue and hands, even if that’s exactly what I would like to do. I also have to make sure he knows. “I wasn’t always nice to you. In fact, I was super mean sometimes. I don’t blame you for any of it. You’re a good man. I hope you know that.”
His face doesn’t change, but I do notice the sharp intake of breath. “Thanks,” he says, about as awkwardly as any one word could ever be said, but I can tell he means it. He’s moved. He’s just trying not to let it show. I’m not even sure how much of it is training and how much of it is instinct.
“I don’t want you to have to be hard with me. You’re a better human being than I could ever have imagined. I used to think you were a supervillain, but you’re the opposite. You served your country, you protected your family, and you’ve made a career out of keeping people safe. Thank you for everything you’ve done and everything you do,” I tell him.
Finally, the corners of his lips lift. “As much as I like hearing you say those things—yes, I do. Me. Thorn—I’m not sure I like hearing you say them right now.”
“Oh. Yeah, it’s probably best reserved for post-orgasmic bliss talk.”
“You can say them now too. I’m just…kind of dying to be inside you.”
“Do you want to hear them while you’re fucking me?”
“No, I do not. What I would like to do is coach you through taking my big cock because I don’t want to damage you, and you can tell me honestly if it’s too much.”
“If it’s not too much for my mouth, it won’t be too much for me anywhere else.” I can tell how much the dirty talk surprises him. “Is now the right time to confess that I’ve had some seriously troubling kinky thoughts about you?”
“Not all good thoughts are vanilla thoughts.”
“If you turn it around, it’s not all vanilla thoughts are good thoughts.”
He chuckles deep and low, and my god, it’s such a wonderful sound. I love the rumble of it, the way his body jolts, and how the bed kind of vibrates with it. “That also works.”
“Okay.” I sit up and nod way too hard and far too eagerly. “I’d really like to…uh…get coached through that. Now, if now is a good time for you.”
“Now is a great time for me.” He gets off the bed and grasps my ankles. He doesn’t pull me or drag me. He just helps position me at the edge of the bed, on my back, but this is no vanilla central, thank you very much.
This is my legs being lifted in the air and fitted against his strong, broad shoulders. He tucks a hand under my hips, and the other positions his cock at my entrance.
“I want you to know that I’m also on a dry spell. It’s been…erm…an embarrassingly long time.”
“I don’t think any amount of time is embarrassing if it doesn’t feel right.”
His nostrils flare just once, and his right eye twitches. Even in the dark, I see it. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “No problem. I mean it. Oh. Oh, my holy rainbows in space. Wow.”
He pushes into me with a slight flex of his hips, and even that little bit stretches me so wide. It’s not because I’m not warmed up already, soaking wet, beyond ready, or because, as I said, it’s been a while. It will stretch regardless because Thorn is not tiny.
I gasp, and he halts so damn fast. “Oh my god. Should I stop?”
“If you stop, I swear I’ll hate you forever.”
“Lifetime hate. Ouch. That’s a hard one to come back from. I should probably keep going.”
“You probably should.”
I close my eyes and brace myself, but it’s not going to work.
“Can you keep your eyes on me, baby? I want to make sure you’re okay,” he grunts.
I snap them open. “You just want me to watch you doing filthy things to me, you kinky bastard.”
That, of all things, finally cracks a huge grin across his face. “Is it so obvious?”
“Yes. But just so you know, kinky bastard is a compliment.” If only he had half an idea of the thoughts he’s unlocked inside my brain.
I grab the sheets, trying to get a handhold as he flexes his hips forward and sinks into me slowly. I pant and writhe, and shit, it hurts more than a little, but the way I move against him helps, and after a few seconds, the burn turns into a different kind of burn entirely. He’s so huge, and I’m so tight. I love the way it feels to have him inside me, even halfway. My walls clench around him, and the further he goes, the fuller I feel.
“Holy shit, Ephemeral,” Thorn groans. He bends forward and grasps my hands, threading our fingers together. “You’re so tight. So hot. So wet.”
“Come here,” I mewl. “Please.”
He bends even further, arranges my legs so my heels are on the edge of the bed, and braces himself over me with a hand by my shoulder. He lifts the other, keeping our fingers joined. The new position allows him to thrust inside me all the way, but now I can get my hips up and give him room.
I dig my nails into his shoulder so that when he pulls out and slams back into me, I’m not wrenched halfway up the bed.
If I asked for gentle, I’m sure Thorn would have given it to me. For hours. As it is, I can’t take that kind of edging. I don’t want to hang on the precipice without getting pushed over. I want it hard and rough. I want it such that I can barely take it. Barely stand it. I want it exactly the way he’s giving me, filling me so fully with his hard, long, and furious strokes.
He claims my mouth the way he’s branding my body—not exactly gentle, but not rough either. Just perfect. I kiss him back, wriggling and bucking under him so I can keep taking him and directing him to all the right spots. If I lift up when he thrusts forward, it helps me open up just a little bit wider for him.
We’re both amped up and wild. The half-blowjob I gave him obviously turned him into a wild animal, and it had the same effect on me.
I grasp his chin and tilt his face, half so I can take a breath between kisses and half so I can latch my mouth to that perfect, strong column. He tastes divine, and the way my tongue finds his pulse point, which is beating wildly against the tender, vulnerable skin there, drives me half wild.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please.” That’s a whimper. “Please…”
He thrusts harder, so hard that my breasts start to bounce against his chest, scraping my hard nipples painfully against the hard wall of muscle. I might be tiny, but I hold my own, grinding my hips into each thrust until, at last, he fully bottoms out inside me, hitting the mythical sweet spot that I’ve never managed to get to myself.
I shatter, going straight over the edge into a precipice of pure pleasure. It’s not just a full-body orgasm that rips through me. It’s in my mind, too, the white-hot heat, the delicious lights, the frenzied waves.
Thorn grips my hips, helping me to ride it out, but I can tell he’s close from the way the pace goes uncontrolled. “Can I come inside you?”
“Yes. Please,” I reply breathily. God, there’s nothing in the world I want to feel more than him filling me up.
He bottoms out repeatedly, thrusting into me so hard and far that I’m not sure if I’m coming again or if it’s just another blissful extension, but it feels so fucking amazing. He groans out one of those sexy, strangled, manly groans, and his whole body groans with him, jerking and spasming inside me. I’m fire, heat, and wetness inside. His cock kicks against my walls long after his muscles stop quaking, and I stop trembling.
He leans forward on me, and we rest our foreheads together. “That was…”
“Epic,” I finish. “Nearly perfect.”
“Nearly?”
“Just never call me baby again.”
He snorts and cracks another smile that is so pretty it’s like staring straight into the sun after days and days of endless clouds, rain, and that dreary weather blah feeling. “And here I was worried you had complaints of a different nature.”
I wriggle out from under him, pleased when he gives me a huge bear hug and pretty much wrestles us both into the bed. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s late. I couldn’t sleep before, but now, after talking and having the best orgasm of my life, I could probably sleep.
But here in this bed?
I freeze in Thorn’s arms. I’m squashed up against his chest. His body is a straight-up furnace, and the mattress and sheets feel like they’re made of clouds and well-spun amazingness.
“I should go back to my own bed,” I mutter.
“Are you sure?”
I’m not. I’m not sure about any of this. I’m waiting for him to tell me no.
“If you don’t like this one, we can go to your room. Will Peach Lips join us? Are you worried she’ll wake up and have no idea where you are?”
“She’ll find me. She always does. I just…I’m not sure that… This is your bed. Are you comfortable with us being in here?”
He nuzzles his nose into my hair and inhales my scent, which is both sweet and feral. It spikes my blood pressure.
“I’m comfortable.”
Right. It’s just one night. Just this one time. That’s what we both agreed on. With the way Thorn’s wrapped himself around me, I feel like the flower that all those prickles are there to protect. I’ve never been safer in my life, I’m sure. The heat of him lulls me into an almost comatose state. I never would have pegged this man for a cuddler, but he’s good at it. He gives good hugs, good warmth, and a good rock-solid chest and huge limbs that are draped all around me in exactly the right way, so they aren’t doing any crushing.
He gives good afterglow.
He’s so much more than I thought, and I was so wrong about him.
Our lives don’t fit together the way our bodies do, and it causes a wave of sadness to crash over me, but I close my eyes and let it drift away with everything else, feeling warm and content, safe and alive, and sated and happy in this moment.