Page 14 of The Year of Us: June

Reese

Cory was a sure thing that night and, for the next two weeks, he continued to be the same.

We’d fallen into a comfortable kind of routine, alternating between his rental and my place, finding time between the end of his day and the start of mine.

To say I’d gotten used to him would be an understatement, but the date of his return to New York grew closer every day.

The red chrysanthemums he’d gotten me on the night we went to paint had finally started to curl and wilt around the edges, which felt patently unfair since he was set to leave the following morning.

He spent his last night in Los Angeles in my bed, and I woke up early, lying beneath his burning hot limbs for a solid fifteen minutes before forcing myself out of bed.

I was careful, as to not wake him, but he heard me messing around in the kitchen anyway, tying string around the stems of the flowers so I could hang them to dy.

At least I could have that.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured from the sheets, one arm reaching up toward the ceiling. He crooked his fingers and beckoned me closer.

I finished knotting the string and set the flowers down on the edge of my sink because I hadn’t had time to decide where to hang them yet. I hadn’t even had time to make coffee.

“What time is it?” he asked, eyes half closed when I knee-walked up onto the bed beside him.

“It’s early,” I said.

Cory kicked the sheets down to the foot of the bed and rolled onto his stomach, that seductive little dip in his spine on full display. He pressed his cheek against the pillow and stared up at me with those sleepy eyes of his and said, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Anything you want,” I promised, reaching for the lube.

I was always hard for him, always ready, whether he wanted to fuck or be fucked, and our bodies moved together in a perfect kind of alignment as I slicked my fingers and used them to prep him.

Cory made the most beautiful sounds when he wanted to get fucked, every one of them shooting straight to my cock.

I used my fingers on him as long as I could, but he was so hot and so tight, it wasn’t terribly long before I traded out my fingers for my shaft.

Sinking into him, I shivered as Cory splayed himself out on the bed.

He let out a trembling breath and relaxed, the exhale giving me another inch of entry into his body.

“I don’t want you to go,” I admitted softly, dropping my forehead onto his back in that space between his shoulder blades.

Moving my hips slowly, I used my body to spread him open even more, but instead of taking him down to the bed, I looped my arm around his chest and pulled us both back onto our knees.

Cory sank down around my dick, grunting at the new angle.

“I want to stay like this forever,” he whispered, head falling back against my shoulder.

I reached around and made a loosely gripped his cock, my hand slick from when I’d prepped him for me just minutes before.

“How am I supposed to go back to New York?” he asked, more to himself, I thought, than to me, which was good because I didn’t have an answer for him. I didn’t know how he was supposed to go back, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to stay.

Morgan was also miserable over the idea of him leaving as the two of them had become fast—if not troublesome—friends.

“Don’t worry about that now,” I said, tightening my hold on his shaft.

We’d still not talked about the developments in the kinky side of our relationship.

He hadn’t brought up the night I asked him to restrain me, and I’d been content to let that conversation go unspoken.

But he wasn’t new to this lifestyle and neither was I.

Just because the territory was new for both of us, the makeup of the dynamic, didn’t mean we weren’t aware of the rules.

I fucked Cory long and slow, releasing my grip on his cock every time he got close.

I didn’t think it was the last time we’d get to be intimate before his flight home, but I still wanted to savor it.

When I couldn’t hold out any longer, when the sheets were as sweat-soaked as our bodies, and his mouth moved as frantically as my brain, I finally let us both finish.

I thrust into him one more time before my body fought against all the restraint I’d been exhibiting, an orgasm tearing out of me with so much force I felt it in the base of my spine.

Cory came seconds after, spilling all over my fingers with violent bursts of cum that had his cock growing thick and hard in my hand.

Even after we’d both finished, I didn’t want to let him go.

Trying to keep him in my hand and me in his body, I lowered us both down to the bed and held him tight against my chest.

“What time is it now?” he asked, body soft and pliant against mine.

“It’s still early,” I told him again. “Go back to sleep.”

Maybe if we were wrapped up in each other, lost to sleep, time would somehow stop, and we wouldn’t have to face the reality that awaited us the following day.

Is love enough to keep Cory and Reese together once there's thousands of miles between them again?