Page 73 of Reckless Hearts

His laughter turns into a groan as he finally, finally, starts to press inside. “Holy fuck, I’ve missed this,” he rasps as he slides into me.

I can only moan in reply.

This is… This is bliss.

This is what I’ve been missing all these years. The feel of Marcus inside me, the heat of him, the way he seems to know exactly how to move to hit all the right spots.

He goes gently at first, taking his time to let me adjust. But as I start to push back against him, demanding more, his control seems to snap. His movements become deeper, more urgent, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I’m gasping, clutching at the sheets, lost in the sensation, when he suddenly pulls out of me.

I whimper a protest, but then he’s tugging me onto my back.

“Need to kiss you,” he says.

Yeah, I’m not going to ever protest that concept.

He’s hitching my legs up and then presses back inside me, moving forward to kiss me and stroke my cock at the same time.

The triple pleasure of Marcus’s tongue in my mouth, his cock inside me, and his hand on my cock tips me over the edge, and I come so fast and intensely I almost black out.

Falling unconscious due to an orgasm. It would definitely be an experience.

Marcus withdraws immediately, and I love that he remembers how sensitive I get, how that little detail has stayed with him through the past seven years.

I reach for his cock and pull the condom off. Leaning forward, I take him in my mouth.

Marcus moans.

I use every trick I can remember, wanting to drive Marcus as wild as he drove me.

Part of me wants to prove to him I’ve grown up since we were last together, that I’m not the naïve eighteen-year-old I once was. I call on all the knowledge I cataloged when I was eighteen and nothing was more important to me than giving Marcuspleasure, and then add some of the extra tricks I’ve gleaned from the last seven years.

Marcus’s reactions spur me on— the little gasps, the way his abs tighten, the grip of his hands in my hair. I can tell he’s close when his thighs start to shake.

I look up, meeting his eyes, which tips him over the edge.

“Seb,” he gasps as he comes down my throat.

Oh shit.

I pull off him and wipe my mouth, not wanting to meet his eyes until I can compose myself properly. Until I can suppress the emotions being with Marcus has caused to swirl inside me.

Because no one I’ve been with since has come close to my experiences with Marcus.

My feelings for Marcus are like a volcano that went dormant instead of extinct and is now erupting back into life.

He slumps down on the bed next to me.

“And that, as they say in Hollywood, is a wrap,” he says breathlessly.

I laugh, and he turns his head at the sound of my laughter, depositing a kiss on the side of my face.

He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom.

I’ve never forgotten how tender Marcus is in the aftercare. Guys I’ve been with since Marcus have all lacked in this department. No one has ever looked after me as well as Marcus does now, carefully bringing me a cloth to clean us both up, his touch gentle and reverent. Then he wraps me in his arms, holding me as our heartbeats settle, pressing soft kisses to my temple.

When he traces a pattern on my skin, my eyes prickle. For a second, I imagine his touch could leave a mark, all the swirls and circles forever etched on my skin.

“The rain has stopped,” he says quietly.