Love on Loan – J.C. Hannigan #6
I could feel the pre-cum gathering at my tip, as if my cock was weeping in agreement. Yes! Now!
My knee cracked as I straightened. Ignoring it, I pulled my wallet out and grabbed a condom, unzipping my pants and pushing them down my legs. I’d forgone boxers, I didn’t like how the material bunched up with dress pants.
Arwen licked her lips as she watched me put on the condom, her legs parting for me. I took a step toward her, bringing the tip of my cock to her glistening entrance.
“You sure you want this cock?” I asked her, rubbing myself against her.
“Yes! I need you to fuck me right now, Atticus,” she demanded.
Gone was the quiet and reserved woman, she was possessed with wanton need.
“My naughty little librarian,” I said with approval, thrusting forward slowly, letting her adjust to my size.
Arwen let out a mewling sound, her hands coming up to grip my forearms as her legs parted even more to accommodate me.
“You feel incredible,” I said as I drew out slowly before thrusting forward again, taking her deeper than before.
“Harder, please,” she begged.
I was all too happy to deliver, slamming into her harder, each thrust chasing us both to the edge of orgasmic bliss. Arwen held on to me for dear life, and I gripped her hips to keep her in place as I pounded into her.
“Goddamn,” I growled, feeling her walls clench around me as she came again. Her orgasm spurred my own, and I slammed home once more, coming so hard I saw stars.
No sooner had we finished when Arwen’s shyness and uncertainty returned. She reached for her shirt, trying to cover herself up while I dealt with the condom.
“Do you have a garbage I could…” I lifted a brow.
“Oh, yes. It’s under the sink,” Arwen replied, her voice laced with a hint of awkwardness, like she didn’t quite know what to do now that the act was complete.
I opened the cupboard door under the sink and tossed the condom in the bin. When I turned back around, Arwen was standing and trying to put her panties back on.
“Getting dressed so soon?” I teased, moving toward her, and putting my hands on her hips.
“Oh, I—” She pushed her glasses up on her nose, looking adorably perplexed. “I wasn’t sure…you can go again?” she sounded surprised.
“I might need a couple minutes to hydrate first,” I grinned. “Unless you wanted me to leave?”
“Oh, well, no. I don’t, actually. Want you to leave, I mean,” Arwen was even more irresistible when she was flustered. “I just figured you…”
“Got what I came here for and would be on my way?” I finished, and when she nodded, I could tell she meant that.
She truly expected me to have my way with her and take off immediately after. My heart twisted at that.
“No, I’m not that kind of guy. And I want so much more than just one time. I will have to leave eventually—Gimli’s home alone and will need to be let out.”
“Hold on, your dog’s name is Gimli?” Arwen asked. Of course, that’d be the thing she focused on.
I chuckled. “Yes, it is.”
“So that’s why you smiled so much upon hearing my name, it reminded you of your dog.” Arwen’s brows furrowed.
I tipped her chin up to look in her eyes. “Trust me, you do not remind me of my dog. I just thought it was a cute coincidence—that the woman to turn my eye and capture my attention also had an LOTR-themed name.”
“I turned your eye and captured your attention?” she repeated in a whisper.
“Yes,” I said before kissing her senseless again. The way she melted into my arms made me feel like I’d driven the point home; I was interested, very interested, and I was far from finished experiencing Arwen Love.
Arwen
Atticus stayed for another two hours, nursing the first drink I poured him while we curled up on the couch, talking and kissing and touching.
We talked about the town’s silly love elixir folklore, and how it may or may not have inspired the premise of his book.
“My Nana Connelly had a lot to say about the folklore of Hartwood Creek, so much so that her stories were the soundtrack to my childhood, and later inspired my books. She had believed wholeheartedly in the stories. That the love elixir would make you fall in love, and that the Hartley family were witches. Papa Connelly said that was all hogwash; a load of fantastical stories to drive in tourists. I hadn’t realized they’d known the Hartley family, but the triplets seemed to speak about them both with an air of familiarity,” Atticus chuckled, shaking his head.
“Oh, they speak about everyone with an air of familiarity. They mean well, but sometimes they freak me out. It’s eerie how much they know about people,” I shivered, taking another sip of my whisky.
“Do you believe in it? The love elixir?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, looking into my near-empty glass. “I think it’s a cute concept, but the jury’s still out.”
We went on to talk about our education, our work, and our goals for the future. Although we’d only known each other a short time, it felt like longer—like our souls recognized each other.
Finally, the topic of relationships got brought up, by Atticus, no less.
“Are you…looking for something serious?” he asked.
“I’m open to the idea of it,” I replied. “I haven’t exactly had much luck in the dating department,” I admitted, going on to explain my awkward dating history a little bit.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
But I’m also not opposed to having one,” Atticus said.
“My focus has been on my writing for the last several years, but since meeting you, I find my thoughts shifting to you quite often. I would love to keep seeing you, if that’s something you’d be interested in? ”
“I’d like that,” I whispered, before his lips descended upon mine and he kissed me until I was a panting mess of wanton need again.
We ended up doing it again, this time on my couch, before Atticus finally, reluctantly, said he had to go. He programmed my number into his phone at the door, texted me, then kissed me goodbye.
I closed the door behind him, putting my hand over my heart and felt the frantic beats beneath my palm.
I was smiling like a lovesick fool, which was silly—I’d only been around Atticus twice in the past few weeks. But I couldn’t deny that we had a connection like the ones I’d only ever read about in the pages of romance books.
I couldn’t wait to see how the rest of our story played out.
J.C. Hannigan lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband, their two sons, and their dogs. She writes contemporary romance stories with compelling characters and vibrant plots that focus on relationships, mental health, social issues, and other life challenges.