Page 101 of Hope After Loss

He returns to the bed and covers me. His hot, slick, bared skin against mine.

“Ready for your next orgasm?” he asks.

Yes, please.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself. I hope you can deliver,” I tease.

With a wicked grin, he tears a condom packet open with his teeth.

Where did that come from?

He slides the latex over his erection, and then he clutches my waist.

My knees fall to the sides, and he finds my entrance and thrusts inside of me.

Gloriously filling me.

“Oh, yes, right there,” I gasp.

He reaches back and clasps one of my legs and brings it up over his hip so he can move deeper, and my head drops to the pillow as I grip the sheets on the bed.

He bends his head so he can kiss my exposed neck, and the sensation of his gentle kiss, in contrast to his pounding rhythm, is exquisite.

His breath starts coming in short, hard pants, and my leg locks tightly around his waist as he begins to move faster.

“Damn, you feel so good,” he grunts as my muscles tighten around him.

He grips my hips as he thrusts harder.

I slide my hands down his sides, scoring his skin with my fingernails before digging them into the flesh of his ass and holding on. He begins making loud, guttural noises that let me know he is about to come.

I’m so close myself and desperate for release when he slips one hand between us and presses his thumb to my clit before giving it a little pinch.

That does it. My body begins to convulse as I cry his name.

Weston loses his thin grip on control, and his pleasure explodes into me.

He brings his head to my shoulder and groans as he rides his climax until he’s spent.

We lie here, panting.

Me taking his weight as I stroke my hands up and down his spine.

And I fight the tears.

Not tears of regret, but of relief and closure and new beginnings.

Anna

Iawaken in a cool, dark room. My body aching in the most delicious way. After raising my arms above my head and stretching like a cat, I roll to wrap myself around Weston, but instead, I find nothing but a pillow tucked into my side.

Sitting up, I click on the bedside lamp and look toward the bathroom. The door is open, and the light is off.

Did he go back to his room to sleep?

Dread slides through me as I consider the fact that he might regret what happened last night.

I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand to knock on the shared door when my eye catches on a piece of paper by the television, held down by the remote.