It’s like neither of us is in control anymore.
My cock is a stiff rod of tension in my pants. It feels like it will burst out of my zipper and thunder into her by itself.
The movement of her hips feels the same like she can’t help it. She’s as possessed as I am.
“I can feel how fucking close you are,” I growl.
“Please,” she whimpers.
“What?” I demand.
“Don’t… stop….”
I smirk and carry on, licking her clit so fast my tongue begins to ache. But it’s worth it to hear the way her moans turn from loud and frantic to hollow.
It’s like she can’t summon the breath to moan anymore.
She’s so, so close.
Burning precome squeezes out of the tip of my engorged member in time with her lust-filled movements, each bucking of her horny hips adding to the feeling.
I sink my hands deeper into her ass, pressing tightly, letting her feel who she belongs to.
“That’s – oh – Ry – Ry – Ryland.”
Her pussy gushes for me, more wetness than I can believe seeping out of her hole and over my tongue.
Her hips stop moving as if she can’t put in the effort anymore, like everything she has is a prisoner of the orgasm.
Finally, she lets out the full force of her pleasure, throwing her head back and grabbing big bunches of the sheets.
The scream makes my cock bulge with even more pressure, pushing fiercely against my pants. My rock-solid length knows the time is almost here.
I haven’t told her yet… told her how I feel, told her what she means to me, and told her what this means.
But I can’t stop.
As soon as her orgasm passes, I stand up, my hands darting to my belt.
Rachel’s eyes widen as though she’s just returned to consciousness. It’s like she’s been floating someplace else, a land of pure pleasure, and now she’s back.
I grab my belt and pull it loose.
I can’t stop.
My lust has never felt like this, so unbridled, so unleashed.
And I know why.
My body knows that making love with my Rachel is more important than doing it with anybody, that being with her really means something.
“What are you doing?” she whimpers as I grab my pants.
Her tone is cold.
Ice-fucking-cold.
“Ryland, I didn’t… I didn’t say I wanted to have sex.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rachel
Why did I have to return to earth?
I was floating when the orgasm struck me. With his mouth between my legs, his hand massaging my ass, and his finger buried inside of me, it was like euphoria was attacking me from multiple angles.
And then the orgasm hit hard.
It pommeled into me, and thinking became impossible.
All I could even acknowledge was the feeling between my legs.
For a little while there, I even thought I’d be able to go all the way. I’d be able to give him everything he wanted. I wouldn’t have to be a prisoner to my anxiety, self-doubt, and the big ugly mess that makes me who I am.
I know this sort of thinking doesn’t help. Autumn would hate it.
But I can’t stop.
I want him – standing there, his body heaving, his hand hovering near his pants. I can see the thick outline of his manhood through his pants. His unsure lips glimmer with what we just did.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
The truth, tell him the truth.
But then I’m on my feet, springing up, waving my hands. I can’t look at him. I feel like I’m on autopilot, the way I often get when strong emotions take hold of me.
Not this, though. Never this.
I never came close to something so magical.
Am I throwing it away?
“This is our first date,” I rage, picking up my pants and disentangling my panties. “We went for a meal, and I met your dog and – and yeah, Ryland, everything’s been great. Everything’s been freaking awesome. And what we just did, yeah, fine, that was amazing. But then you can’t just freaking assume it means I’m going to have sex with you.”
He drops his hands from his belt, narrowing his eyes at me as I shuffle into my pants. I leave my panties balled up on the floor. I realize the mistake too late, as the stickiness of my sex rubs against the material of my pants.
The friction makes me think of his hand, his tongue, and his cock. He was so freaking close to revealing himself… to revealing the thick length that would start our family. He could’ve gotten me pregnant tonight.
But he doesn’t know that’s what I want. He might’ve asked to use a condom, and really, that would’ve been the sensible move.
“You said this wasn’t a hookup.”
I push past him, snatching up my shoes as I stalk through the apartment. My voice sounds bratty and volatile even to myself, but I can’t help it.
There’s too much tension buried inside of me, gnarled, twisting its way through me.