Page 108 of Wish Upon A Star

He is still touching me, slow circles of his fingers against me. I don’t need that anymore. His presence is enough. I’m there. His arousal within me presses against me now in such a way as to drive me to wildness, and I take his hand and tangle our fingers, he presses our joined hands to the pillow above my head.

He’s driving into me with slow intensity. “Jo, god, my god, my Jo.”

I cry out as he fills me and fills me, and I’m complete with him, utterly glutted on everything that is Wes, my Westley, and my legs clamp around his buttocks and my thighs grip his waist and I thrust and grind against him and I’m crying, tears wetting my cheeks as I cry his name and scream breathless wordless and wild.

His lips kiss my cheek and his tongue touches my eyelids and I realize he’s literally kissing away my tears.

I explode around him, and I yank my hand out of his and touch myself to incite the climax, to fuel it, to send it hotter. I feel myself clamp around his erection and he groans and thrusts deep, his belly against mine and his hips on mine and he’s seated so deep that I can take no more of him and I’m coming around him and stars burst behind my tight-shut eyes and I scream and I scream and curl up against him and my fingernails rake down his back and my other fingers are a blur against my clit and then I clutch his butt in both hands and claw my fingers into the muscle there and pull.

“Wes!” I cry. “Wes, Wes, please, oh god, please, don’t stop. Love me, Wes.”

He surges against me and I’m spasming around his thick manhood and I feel him pulse. “I do, Jo, I love you—” His forehead drops to my breastbone and his skin sweat-slick and he’s crushing into me. “Jo, my Jo, my Jolene…I’m coming, Jo. I’m coming, oh god, oh god, Jo.”

He drives into me, and I’m still clenching spasmodically around him with my own climax and I’m crying and gasping—when I feel him release, I groan with him. He floods me.

Fills me.

We move together into the last throes of love, sweat commingling, breath united, kissing lips and catching breath and clutching hands and bumping hips against hips, and he moves in me still and I love knowing the feel of him inside me, and I love knowing I’ve given him this, that he’s given me this.

Finally, we slow our movements.

He rolls, still nestled within me, and clutches me to his chest; we’re on our sides, body to body, and still tangled and united.

I listen to his heartbeat with tears of joy and happiness dampening my cheeks.

“Thank you, Wes,” I whisper.

He swallows hard. “For what, Jo?”

I rub his chest, find his stubbled jaw. “For making my life complete.”

“It’s the other way around,” he whispers.

It’s a long,beautiful, magical night.

We make love endlessly.

The fire dies in the fireplaces. Stars wheel beyond the windows.

Finally, exhaustion takes over.

We’ve taken a shower together, which began as a quest to get clean, resulted in more lovemaking, and ended, eventually, in us actually washing each other.

Now, clean and warm, I cling to his neck and his thigh is over mine, and his hand rests on my butt and I smell his clean skin and feel his breath and our pulses are synched.

I am loved.

Come what may, I will always have this one magical day.

You Were Meant For Me

Westley

Michael and Magnus take us back across the fields and along the shoreline, back to the airfield.

Jolene glows.

Her smile is bright and endless and infectious.