Page 65 of Between Hello and Goodbye

He went to the nightstand for a condom. I hauled myself to sitting, watching him move—big but graceful in the dark.

I wasn’t done with him, either. I hadn’t even started.

“Come here,” I said, when he had the condom in hand.

I felt calmer now that the first need had been satiated but only barely. I wanted him inside me and could hardly believe it was about to happen. Anticipation, nerves, want…as if I’d never done this before.

I haven’t. Not like this.

Asher stood in front of me while I sat on the edge of the bed. I undid the button on his pants, then the zipper while kissing the warm skin of his stomach. I ran my tongue along the hard lines and ridges of his abdomen as I shoved his pants down. His erection strained against his boxer-briefs, and the flame of want burned white hot in the center of me at the sight of it. Slowly savoring the moment, I pushed his underwear off his hips, and the cut V of his abdomen led my gaze straight to his magnificent cock—huge and hard and perfect. I stroked him once, experimentally, to feel the velvet of his skin over the hard length of him.

“Faith,” he said tightly.

“Just getting acquainted.”

I took the condom packet from Asher, but instead of opening it, I sheathed him with my mouth.

“Ah fuck,” he groaned, his hand landing heavily in my hair, gripping and sending delicious licks down my spine.

Little sounds of want were issuing from my throat as I took him deep, then shallow, swirling my tongue and pumping him in my fist. Every sound he made, every muttered curse, every tightening of his hold on my hair spurred me on. He was holding himself back, trying not to fuck my mouth. I would have let him; except I couldn’t wait any more.

“Now,” I said, breathless, releasing him and rolling the condom down. I scooted back on the bed and lay back, wanton and needy, my legs spread. “Right now, firefighter.”

He kicked aside his pants and underwear and moved swiftly over me, on top of me, the head of his cock brushing against my warm wetness. He hooked one of my legs over the crook of his elbow, spreading me wider, and buried himself inside me in one smooth, hard thrust.

Time stood still, allowing my delirious mind and body to savor the feel of him—heavy, thick, and so, so deep in me. A warm, aching pleasure was stoked at that first thrust and grew heavier, stronger with the next hard slam of Asher’s hips to mine. And the next, and the next, each one faster and more intense, each driving me higher and higher while pinned beneath the perfect heavy weight of him.

I could not get enough of him, couldn’t get him deep enough. I clawed his broad back, trying to keep him tight to me, to meld his body with mine. I lifted my hips in answer to his every move, and all the while he kissed me when our frantic bodies allowed it—a wet mashing of teeth and tongues.

“I-I’m close…” I managed.

Asher hooked my other leg on his elbow, bending me in half. He pressed himself up, palms flat on either side of me, driving into me with mindless need. With desire so raw and potent, I could hardly believe it was all for me.

One moment melted into the next, climbing toward euphoria. He sent me over the edge and my orgasm erupted, wiping out all thought. Ribbons of white-hot pleasure coursed through me from my center where his cock still moved in me, drawing my release out longer while taking him closer to his.

“Come,” I breathed, my hands on his glorious forearms, nails digging in. “Come inside me, Asher.”

With a grunted cry and a last few earth-shattering thrusts, he came hard—abs tight, neck corded, his face a pained mask of ecstasy. He had on a condom, but I imagined him spilling his release deep inside me, filling me with him, marking me as his.

A pang of unease lanced through the hot haze of my orgasm.

I can’t feel like this about him. I’m leaving.

And then he was on top of me, skin to skin, warm and heavy, kissing me gently, thoroughly, reverently. So much so that tears sprang to my eyes, and that was definitely not allowed. I did not cry over men. Ever.

And yet, I kissed him back with just as much depth and care, not wanting to do anything else but hold him and kiss him and stay in this moment forever.

Finally, he broke away and gently withdrew from me to lie on his side. “How’s your ankle?”

“I have ankles?” I managed weakly. “My entire body is one pulsating orgasm.”

“Good. Want some water? A nap? But just a short one.”

“Because you’re still not done with me?”

“Not even close.”

God, his smile—a gentle thing on his hard, granite features—made my pulse quicken even more than his words. The pang of unease turned dire. Sleeping with Asher hadn’t fixed anything. It had only made it worse. My body was satisfied—temporarily—but my heart was still clamoring for more.

I reached for him again to drown the unwanted thoughts in the sensations of him. For hours. But when dawn’s light crept in through the window and we lay tangled in each other, I stared at the ceiling in perfect conflict—contentment and belonging making my heart warm while one thought clamored through my mind.

We’ve made a terrible mistake…