With a shift of his hand, he slid his fingers over my clit, undulating in motion until I let out a relieved and sharp cry, my chest heaving in the expulsion of the pent-up relief.
I watched as Marek’s arm muscles tensed, his hand stilling, and the way he held his breath right before I felt his cock spasm, the heat of his release spilling inside me. Marek’s mouth latched onto my neck before growling out a long, vibrating, “Fuuuuuck.”
With our bodies still connected in the most intimate of ways, his chest pressed hard against my back so we moved in sync, our eyes locked once more in the now foggy mirror.
“Come home with me tonight.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me close as if he’d somehow figured out that I might bolt. Because something grew tight inside my chest with his question and made me want to run. It was incongruent—like a square peg in a round hole—and didn’t want to fit what I labeled this thing to be.
A weekend fling.
If I accepted his invitation, it would be more than that. At least for me. It would turn into something bigger than I thought I could handle.
I was reeling from the emotion of it all. It was too much. Too soon.
And what about him? He’s got too much going on in his life for me, anyhow.
Adding more time to this affair would do neither of us any good. Especially if we weren’t ready for what comes next.