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I come immediately, screaming his name. I’d be embarrassed if he didn’t groan his approval, mouth still latched around me. Still devouring me like he can’t get enough.
Tearing himself away from me with a low growl, he carries me into the bedroom and lays me on the bed. He pulls off my dress. Unhooks my bra. Takes off my panties.
Standing over me, he pulls off his long sleeve shirt. He has a new tattoo. A triple strand of pearls wrapped around his forearm. Winding around his bicep. Disappearing behind his shoulder. My hands go to the pearls around my neck, working the clasp around so I can take it off.
“Leave it.” He opens the front of his pants and starts to pull them down, gaze snagged on my ring finger. “Leave that too.”
I shake my head. “Con—”
Pants off, he stretches himself over me, the engorged head of cock, pushing against me. Taking my hands in his, he lifts them above my head, pinning them to the bed. “I said leave it.” He strokes into me, hard and fast, his hips slamming against mine, instantly filling me. Stretching my pussy around the thick, rigid length of him. “Christ…” he mutters it against my neck, stroking and thrusting into me until I’m writhing and reaching for release.
He turns me, laying on his back so he can look up at me, his hands falling to my hips, so he can guide me, lifting and lowering me along the length of his cock. His fingers grip my ass, opening me wider, so I can take him in deeper. “Have you been touching yourself?” his voice is tight, straining against the back of his throat, gaze dark and hooded while he watches me ride him.
“Yes.”
“Show me.” He presses my hand between my legs, brushing my fingers against the place where we’re joined. “Touch yourself for me.”
I skim my fingers over my slick pussy, falling back, bracing my hand against his thigh when I find my clit. Sweeping my fingertip over it again and again, looking down at him while I roll my hips against his. “Conner…” my head falls back, fingers swirling fast. Our hips pumping and grinding against each other in a relentless, hungry rhythm.
“Come on me, Henley.” His hands come up, caressing my breasts, pinching and tugging my nipples, hard enough to make me gasp. “I need you to come on me.”
A deep, bone-twisting shudder shoots up my spine and I scream his name again while my pussy grips around him so tight he groans.
“Fuuuck.” His hands find my hips again, gripping them tight while he slams me down on his cock while he thrusts upward, touching places I didn’t even knew existed while he comes, inside me.
He pulls me toward him, framing my face with his hands, thumb stroking my cheekbone. Gaze searching mine. I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to, but he doesn’t.
“Cenquinsexagintillion.” He whispers it like it’s a secret, the pad of his thumb skimming lower to follow the curve of my upper lip. “It’s a number. Ten to the five-hundredth power.” One of his hands slips down the nape of my neck, following the curve of my spine to press against my lower back. “In string theory, it’s the number of realities that exist, parallel to ours.” Pressed tight, he rolls me under him again and I moan softly when I feel his cock stiffen inside me. “In one of them we’re together. We stay.” He pulls back, angling his hips away from mine before pushing forward, stroking into me, slow and deep. “In one of them, you choose me.” He finally kisses me, his mouth brushing against mine so soft, so gentle, I’m afraid I might’ve imagined it.