13. Allie #3
That wave peaks, that flame flares, before the warring sensations of aching desire and vital pleasure crash together in an all-consuming burst. My mind scatters, absorbed by the stars exploding behind my eyes.
My body goes taut, tightening at the lightning bolt of electric heat that singes every fucking nerve ending.
I’m floating—lost in this in-between reality that only Archer has ever brought me to.
Some faraway dimension where it’s him and me and the being we become when joined together like this. His throaty moan ricochets off the white walls of this distant room as he loses himself too.
The first surge of his release shoots inside me, coating me in warmth before I become woefully empty. My eyes fly open in time to find him fisting his cock between my legs, pumping vigorously as ropes of cum drip down his length and cover my core.
He chants my name like a prayer, chest heaving uncontrollably as he loses himself. I’m still catching my breath, fuck-drunk and dazed when he smacks his cock against my lips, creating the most obscene, wet, deliciously erotic sound with our mixed releases.
I moan.
He smirks. “Filthy girl. Look at you.”
Sinking back on his haunches, he rakes a hand through his hair, still panting. Tongue flicking out to lick his lip, Archer studies me with raw astonishment blazing in his eyes. Like he’s attempting to imprint my image on his mind.
“Taste it,” he rasps. A demand.
I skim my fingers down my stomach, gliding them between my legs, coating myself in our mess. I raise my hand to my mouth, sucking away the remnants of our climax.
“Good?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” I hum.
“My turn.”
I extend my fingers toward him, but he shakes his head. Instead, Archer sinks down, splaying out on his stomach as he settles between my thighs. “I sip from the source.”
“Fuck.”
His lips tilt teasingly before he lowers his head, eyes pinned on mine when he glides his tongue up the length of me, coating himself in us both.
I’m still buzzing, still hypersensitive from my first orgasm, so the taunting touch has me spiraling already. Archer gives me no mercy when he flattens his tongue against my clit and devours.
He leaves no piece of me untouched as he nips and flicks and sucks at my flesh.
Hands sliding up my thighs, spreading me wide and rolling my hips up—exposing all of me.
Exploring thoroughly with his tongue, heightening every sensation in my body as lightning surges from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, sending me to space.
My mind is blanketed in starlight, unable to make sense of reality as he consumes and wrecks and ruins me. Staking claim on my body, my brain—my goddamn fucking soul.
Vaguely aware of my quivering limbs and my raw-cut cries, my fingers knotting and pulling and twisting his hair, my hips bucking shamelessly against his face, I’m shrouded in lust-filled clouds as his mouth works relentlessly.
He continues until I’m boneless and spent and entirely sated. Only when my sobs of pleasure have subsided into sighs of satisfaction does he raise his head, our essence dripping from his haughty grin.
“Good?” I ask, mimicking his words from earlier.
“Allie.” He breathes. “You? Mixed with me? Fucking delectable.”
I whimper. “C’mere.”
He slides atop me, and I bring his face to mine, hands bracketing his jaw as I kiss him thoroughly, savoring the taste of us. We lay tangled for some time, hands drifting over each other’s skin, lips brushing each other’s mouth, whispered words and inside jokes and quiet laughs.
No talk of tomorrow. No talk of the future. Only this moment, only who we are right now.
Each other’s.
He takes me again, slow and deep. He covers my body entirely with his, whispering his desire into my flesh, never allowing my gaze to leave his eyes.
After, we take a shower and languidly wash our bodies before I drop to my knees and put him in my mouth—remind him of all that he misses when he leaves.
He grows frustrated with my teasing, and I grow frustrated with the passage of time.
He lifts me into his arms and pins me against the wall, the stream of water turning from warm to frigid as he pounds into me for the third time tonight.
I pull his hair; he bites my neck. We’re rough and fervent, taking out our longing on each other’s body.
Finally, we get out of the shower, and he brushes my hair again. We fall into bed together, making love one last time, and when we’re finished, I don’t ask him what time he has to go. He wraps his arms around me, and he doesn’t say good night.
We never do.
I’ll wake up in the morning and he’ll be gone.
Just like the last time, and the way I left him the time before that.
Goodbye is too hard. We murmur our love confessions into the darkness, our raw truth, our fragmented entanglement.
We fall asleep together, those words hanging in the air like a lullaby, the nightmare only occurring when we rise alone.
Tonight is no different.
When morning comes, my bed is empty, and as promised, my heart is broken.