Page 45 of Beyond the Lines (Pine Barren University #1)

Our eyes lock as I swipe my tongue. She gasps, her hands flying to the headboard for support. She tastes like salt and musk—a flavor I’m quickly becoming addicted to. I work my tongue against her, circling her clit, dipping inside her, and alternating pressure and patterns.

All while maintaining eye contact.

It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced—watching her face while I pleasure her, seeing every flicker of sensation pass across her features. She can barely keep her eyes open through the pleasure, but she doesn’t look away.

Her confidence grows with each passing second, her body undulating above me, using my mouth for her pleasure. It’s almost like she’s using me to rebuild her confidence in real-time, and I’m happy to oblige, to let her ride my face like it’s a saddle.

Because I love her.

The realization doesn’t hit me like a thunderbolt—it settles over me like dawn.

A gentle brightening of something that was already there.

Of course I love her.

How could I not?

Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, her eyes widening before squeezing shut as she shudders above me. I hold her through it, my mouth gentler now, easing her down from the peak. When she can breathe again, she looks down at me with an impish smile.

“That was… something….” she says.

I laugh. “I believe the technical term is ‘cunnilingus.’”

She swats at me weakly. “Shut up.”

Then she reaches behind for me, her hand finding my erection through my sweatpants. She eases up off me and works her way down, until her slick pussy is only inches from my hard cock, although separated by the sweatpants. That’s not a problem, for long, and my cock springs free.

She settles her weight on my thighs, one hand wrapped around my cock. Her fingers explore me with a curiosity that makes me both amused and achingly hard. She takes her time, watching my face as she strokes up and down, her grip tightening when she reaches the head, and loosening on the downstroke.

“You’re good at that,” I manage, my voice rougher than I intended.

She smiles, a hint of wickedness in the curve of her lips. “I’m paying attention.”

“To what? ”

“To what you like.” Her thumb swipes over the head, spreading the bead of moisture she finds there. “The way your breath catches when I do this—” She twists her wrist slightly on the upstroke, and sure enough, my breath catches. “Or how your muscles tense when I go first lower myself onto you.”

She shifts, positioning herself over me, and I feel the wet heat of her against the tip of my cock. My brain short-circuits for a moment, and I want nothing more than to thrust up and fill every inch of her, but then my mind screams and reality crashes back.

“Wait,” I say, reaching for her hips to stop her. “Condom.”

She bites her lip, cheeks flushing. “Actually, I started the pill.”

My hands freeze on her hips. “You did?”

She nods, suddenly shy. “I figured… you’ll feel more…”

My chest feels tight, like something’s expanding inside it. “But what about?—”

“STDs?” she finishes, and I nod. “I’m clean.”

“I got tested a few months ago.” I shrug. “And I haven’t been with anyone else…”

Her eyes widen slightly. “I trust you.”

Three simple words that punch straight through me. I swallow hard, struggling to contain the emotion welling up in my throat. There’s something monumental about this moment that has nothing to do with the physical act we’re about to perform and everything to do with what it represents.

Trust.

After everything, she trusts me.

I pull her down for a kiss and, at the same time, she slowly lowers herself onto my cock. The sensation is overwhelming— hot and tight and perfect. It’s like seeing color when before, with the condom, all there had been was black and white.

She sets a slow pace at first, experimenting with angles, and watching my reactions. I try to keep my eyes open, to memorize every detail—the way her curls bounce with each movement, and the perfect curve of her breasts. It’s overwhelming.

I grip her hips with my hands, helping her maintain the rhythm. Her fingers dig into my chest, and she throws her head back. The orgasm hits her suddenly—I can feel it in the way she tightens around me, see it in the way her mouth falls open in silent ecstasy.

The sight of her coming undone above me, combined with the rhythmic pulsing around my cock, sends me over the edge. I thrust up into her, hard, as my release tears through me. I gasp her name, my fingers digging into her hips, probably hard enough to leave marks.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing. Then she collapses onto my chest, her face tucked into the crook of my neck. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as our heart rates slowly begin their return to normal.

I love you.

The words rise in me, pressing against my teeth, desperate to be spoken. But I swallow them back. Not now. Not in the aftermath of mind-blowing sex, when she could easily mistake the declaration for post-orgasm euphoria.

When I tell her—and I will tell her—I want her to know it’s real.

That I’ve thought about it.

That it’s not just my dick talking.

The other words can wait. For now, this is enough.