Page 81 of Fragile Lives

“Can I make the first move then?”

I nod, expecting to burn in hell for it.

She gently presses her lips to mine—it’s not sexual, but soft. They start moving along mine gently.

She turns her face a bit so her lips find the perfect angle to mold with mine, and I open my mouth, inviting her in. I wasn’t joking when I said I can’t make the first move.

Her tongue carefully probes my lips, a little shy, and I take it as the first move, so I let myself go.

I let my arms wrap around her and pull her tighter into me while I snake my tongue into her mouth. Her hands drop from my face and move to my shoulders. I know she loves them since every time we fuck, she holds onto them, digging her fingers into my flesh. I love it. She loves it. Perfection.

The kiss is slow. We’re molding into each other, remembering the feel of us together, knowing it can never happen again. Her hands move to my back as she traces my muscles with her gentle fingers. They jerk under her touch, excited.

I pull away for a moment, annoyed at her sweater standing between us, preventing me from feeling her completely. I tug on it, showing her that I want it off. She lets me help her out of it and then out of her bra. And now she’s in front of me in all her glory. Her pale skin and pink, puckered nipples make my mouth water, and I swallow roughly.

“Pants off,” I rasp out, and she slowly starts kicking her jeans off her legs.

When one leg is bare, she stretches the other one toward me, and I grab the material and slowly pull it off, leaving her in nothing but her gorgeous hair and red, lacy panties. She always wears sexy underwear, and I honestly want to keep these whole but can’t. When I see her wearing these sexy pieces, I want to rip them off her body. So, I do just that—I step closer, grab her panties, and pull them aside, snapping them in half.

She lets out a chuckle and pulls one leg up, placing her foot on the counter, showing me just how happy she is to see me.

A lot.She is really happy to see me.

She points at my jeans, and I obey her silent command. Pulling them off, I stand in front of her with my twitching, hard dick pointing up.

She smiles and crooks her finger, inviting me in.

I step back and land my lips on her neck. Knowing I’ll never have the pleasure of doing so again, I mark her skin as hard as I fuckin’ can. Sucking and biting, leaving a bruise of ownership, hoping it will last forever.

It will not.

She takes as good as she gives.

Her mouth bites and sucks just as mine does. Her hands roam around my body and then drop between us as she grabs my twitching dick in her hand, spreading the precum over the head. Then she aligns it with her pussy and starts rubbing the head over it. It’s so wet and so hot.

I nearly come on the spot, so I pull her to the very edge of the table and replace her hand with mine, trying to save myself from embarrassment.

I press into her, and we both stop breathing.

I push deeper, and she grabs me harder.

I retract and push all the way in, and she digs her nails into my back. I start moving. She wraps her legs around my torso and meets my every move with one of her own. We’re in such a perfect balance, it’s painful.

“Harder,” she whispers into my ear, and I oblige.

I start pumping harder and squeezing her tighter. She bites deeper, and her nails scratch harsher.

Her shuddering breaths in my ear make me nearly lose my footing. “Harder.”

I shudder and increase the tempo. Judging by her moans every time I go in, she loves it.

I’m close. She’s close too—her thighs are tight around me, her breathing is quick as her inner walls pulse around me.

And then she does something I don’t anticipate.

“I love you, Stephan,” she whispers into my ear.

And I come like a fuckin’ fountain. Unable to wait for her. Pump after pump, nonstop. And she follows me right after.