Page 7

Seven

Aiden

I laugh and she joins in.

Fuck she’s funny.

And beautiful.

And below me.

And the vibration of our laughter feels really, really good.

Something that has me freezing.

“Luns?” I ask.

She stops giggling, as though suddenly realizing our positions. “Yeah?” she whispers.

I lean in, drop my voice to a whisper too. “I can’t remember there being a time where I didn’t want you.”

Her lungs inflate in a rush, shock flickering across her face.

Bending, I take advantage of surprising her, pressing my mouth to hers, slipping my tongue between her parted lips, tasting her and doing it long and slow and deep.

She hooks a leg around my waist and the change in position…it’s glorious.

Our pelvises align and I can feel the heat of her through the thin material of her sweats.

Christ, I need her…almost as much as I need the layers of fabric currently between us to disappear like a puff of smoke.

Unable to stop myself, I rock against her, loving that the motion has her wrapping her other leg around me, has her grinding against the ridge of my erection, our bodies comfortable together, remembering each other, moving instinctively toward something that will bring pleasure to both of us.

Even though we’ve never moved like this together before.

Even though we’ve never been here—horizontal in a bed—before.

Yes, we have history—innocent kisses and gentle caresses, teenage bodies pressed close in shadowy corners, hesitant touches of soft curves.

But there’s no hesitation now.

Not from me.

Not from her.

I slide my hand along her side, dragging the material of her shirt up along with it, exposing delicate skin and curves I need to get my mouth on.

I lean back onto my heels, tugging her up with me.

“What are you?—”

But I don’t let her finish the question, just drag the material over her head and toss it to the side.

“Christ,” I mutter. “Where’d you get those, Luns?”

Her mouth quirks, but she’s breathing as heavily as I am—something that’s great viewing as far as I’m concerned, those plump mounds nearly toppling out of the lacy edge of her bra with each rapid inhalation and exhalation.

“I kind of grew up,” she says. “Something that seems to be catching, big shot.” A hand drifting down my front, then stopping, fingertips tapping oh so close to the tip of my cock.

I chuckle softly, take one more second to soak in the gorgeous view of Luna.

Then I reach a hand around behind her, undoing the clasps of her bra.

We both groan when her tits are freed, then I do again when I yank the material down her arms, toss it in the direction of her shirt.

God, her breasts are glorious, bouncing slightly, the pink tips hard and demanding that I suck.

“Hey—!”

A slightly outraged cry because I’ve pushed her shoulders, sending her toppling to her back, those tits bouncing all over again.

But it doesn’t last long.

Instead, her outrage turns into a cry of pleasure as I bend and take one hard bud into my mouth, suckling deeply, loving the sound of her calling out my name, loving how her moans fill the air, how her body arches beneath mine.

I cup her breast, positioning it so I can pay proper homage to that beautiful nipple, then massage her other tit, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Aiden!” she cries, but I don’t stop, just kiss my way over to her other side, tasting and sucking, licking and nibbling.

The scent of her, the feel of her, the sound of her—it’s intoxicating.

“I need—” Her head thrashes on the pillow, hips bucking against mine, and as much as I want to stay right where I am, we both need more.

Releasing her breast, I move down, kissing my way over her torso, making my way to the waistband of her sweats and shoving the bedspread off in the process.

I drag them down, whip them off her legs, tossing them in the direction of her shirt and bra.

“This is underwear?” I ask softly, tracing my finger over the lacy scrap of fabric that’s masquerading as panties.

“You like them,” she pants. “So…mission accomplished.”

Grinning, I draw them along lush thighs, down shapely calves, off feet with pink-painted toenails.

Then I place one hand on each of her legs and push them wide.

“Fuck,” I growl at the sight of all that slick, plump pink.

Her pelvis tilts, hips arching, silently begging for my mouth.

So, I give it to her—trailing my tongue through her folds, arrowing in on her clit, discovering with just a few short strokes exactly what she likes.

And then repeating that while I discover other things she likes.

A finger pressing deep, curling up, matching the slow licks. Another joining in, fucking her steadily in time to the flick of my tongue. The flat of my tongue circling her clit. A nip to soft, wet flesh?—

“Aiden!” she shouts, entire body bucking.

Okay then.

She likes teeth.

Grinning, I redouble my efforts, lick and fuck, stroke and bite, and it doesn’t take long before her pussy convulses around my fingers, her hips grind faster against my mouth, her moans grow louder and more frequently until…

Her pussy grows even slicker.

Her body goes taut.

And…she comes apart.

“Oh, my God!” she cries, neck arched, eyes closed, legs tight around my shoulders, that wet cunt of hers spasming around my fingers. “Oh, my fucking God .”

I coax her down gently even though my cock is about to break in half. Because I want this to be good for her, want this to be the best fucking ever.

Because as the day goes on, I want her to remember it was me who brought her pleasure, me who made her feel good.

I want her to remember me .

To let me back in.

All the way in.

Speaking of which…

“Aiden,” she moans softly, eyes slitting open, those gray irises hazy and drunk on pleasure. “I need you.” She reaches for me, tugging at my shoulders. “I need you inside me.”

Yes.

Fuck, yes.

I need that too.

I stretch for my nightstand, tug open the drawer, searching for a condom, thinking about how I’m going to finally get to thrust into the tight, slick heat when…

I hear it.

No. Fuck no.

I freeze, fingers wrapped around the plastic-covered square.

“What?” Luna asks, eyes half mast, legs spreading an inch wider.

Showing me all that I could have?—

If only things were different.

Because then I hear it again. The scrape of metal against metal.

With growing horror, I swivel my head toward the open door of my bedroom.

More noises.

The sound of a key in a lock. The squeak of the condo’s door being pushed open.

Then a voice.

My mother’s voice echoing down the hall.

“Happy Birthday, honey!”