Chapter 43 #2
“Rayne, do you know what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs hoarsely, without taking his mouth off me. His breath caresses my chin and my eyes open. My gaze meets his and his eyes are darker than before, almost black. Dark with desire.
My body reacts instinctively to the excitement in his eyes and the way he’s touching me. Now he’s the one stroking my lips, and my breath catches for a second. Then I lick his fingertip, and he gasps.
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” I say. I press my chest and hips against him. He’s hard already. One kiss, one touch, and he’s hard.
Easton groans as I rub against his erection, the sound sending waves of heat through my entire body. I grab the hem of his sweater; we have to get rid of all our clothes. Right now.
I pull off his sweater while he kicks off his shoes.
I’ve seen him with his shirt off a lot over the last few weeks, but I still haven’t gotten enough of the sight. I can’t help staring at him now.
Next he takes off his pants and stands in front of me in his boxers. I want him so much.
“Take your clothes off,” he whispers, his hands clenching as if he has to stop himself from doing it for me.
He wants me to undress, and even though I’ve done it many times in the last few weeks, even though he’s often watched me do it, this feels different. This time I’m not undressing in front of him, I’m undressing for him.
I nod toward the bed. “Sit down.” He does what I want, and I do what he wants.
I’m wearing my usual clothes, leggings and a hoodie.
It’s one of his, a fact I’m sure he’s well aware of, judging by the way his gaze wanders over the fabric as I wrap my hands around the hem and then change my mind because I’m not wearing a bra, not even a bustier.
Instead, I slide the leggings off first, slowly, with little pauses that make his breath catch.
My movements are smooth and supple. I never thought that dance training would pay off in the bedroom, but turns out it does.
“Rayne.” He says my name like a plea.
I lift my head, blink innocently at him, and finally push the leggings aside.
“Are you trying to kill me?” He moves his hips restlessly, his hands still clenched. He wants to touch me, I can see it in his eyes.
“Not today,” I say softly, and pull the hoodie over my head in one fluid motion.
His gaze wanders over my naked body, my breasts. It feels like he’s touching me, even though I’m standing a few steps away from him. His gaze wanders lower, to the wine-colored panties I’m wearing, and just the way he looks at me makes the muscles in my abdomen contract.
“Come here.” He reaches out to me, and again I do as he asks. I walk over to him, my skin, my lips, and everything else tingling. I need him to kiss me and touch me. I can’t take it anymore.
I take a condom out of my bedside table drawer before placing my hand in his, letting him push me onto the bed.
Then he’s on top of me, his gaze darting from my eyes to my mouth. He kisses me, and I forget how to think, how to breathe, and who I am. He kisses me, and every muscle in my body tenses. I need more.
I clutch his arms and his breathing quickens. More, please more.
I don’t know if I say it out loud or if he just senses what I want, but now his lips wander over my neck, finding the sensitive spot just behind my ear, and a sigh escapes me. I move beneath him, it’s pure instinct. My mind isn’t working, I can’t think anymore.
But thinking isn’t important right now, feeling is, and that’s what I’m doing.
I stroke his shoulders, his chest, and his back, feeling his muscles tense under my fingertips.
I love that. But it’s not enough, because even though he’s leaning over me, he’s not really on top of me.
He’s supporting himself on the mattress with his elbows, but I want to feel his weight on me.
I want him on top of me, inside me—everywhere.
“Easton,” I say, just his name, because I really can’t think anymore. He smiles against my skin as his mouth moves farther down my neck to my breasts. “Come here.” Now I’m the one asking him, but I can’t help it. I’m on fire, and it’s his fault.
I reach for the condom and the plastic rustles softly as I tear open the packet. I pull down his boxers, he pulls down my panties, then he straightens up enough so that I can slip the condom over him. He watches me as I do it, twitching in my hand, and that makes me way too hot.
When I pull him toward me this time, he sinks heavily onto me and kisses me, his tongue in my mouth. I breathe him in, and the throbbing between my legs takes me over. He has to do something about it.
Easton reaches between us. He’s exactly where I want him, and I hold my breath as he enters me. We move at the same time, slowly and carefully. I lift my hips and he thrusts into me, and then nothing is slow or careful anymore.
Short kisses, sharp gasps, his lips on my neck.
I pull him closer, my hands trembling. I’m shaking.
I need him deeper, a little harder, a little more.
Easton groans, and the sound shoots straight to my core.
He slides both hands under my butt, lifts me up a little, and suddenly the angle is different, and everything changes.
Heat in my stomach, a burning pull and tingling that spreads throughout my entire body.
I’ve never come like this before, not without his fingers or his tongue, but the moment he thrusts into me again, he pushes me over the edge.
I have to bite my lower lip to suppress a scream.
He kisses me, but it’s more than kissing; it’s more like breathing.
A shiver runs through his body, and then he goes completely still inside me and on top of me.
My muscles relax. Suddenly I’m tired, so tired, but it’s the best kind of exhaustion you can imagine.
I don’t know how long we lie there, entwined, on top of each other and inside each other.
Eventually, Easton pulls away from me after a short but intense kiss and gets up to throw away the condom.
He’s back almost immediately, pulling me to his chest. I feel his heartbeat against my back and nestle against him with a soft, contented sigh, skin to skin, and once again his mouth finds my neck.
“I love you, Birdy,” he whispers, and I want to hear him say it forever.
I don’t know why, but at that moment, it feels a little like goodbye. It’s not. It can’t be. But for a split second, it feels that way. Then the moment is gone, and I fall asleep without another thought.