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Second Chance Boyfriend(50)

By:Monica Murphy


With a ragged whisper of his name falling from my lips, I’m coming. The waves wash over me again and again, sweeping me under, banishing my thoughts so all I can do is feel.

And then I feel him. Drew. Looming over me, his big hands gripping my hips as he positions me, and without warning, he slides deep inside my body. I gasp at first contact, going completely still as he fills me completely. He dips his head, his mouth crushing mine, and I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue.

I don’t care. God, it arouses me even more and within an instant our bodies are a frenzy of movement as we rock against each other, into each other, taking us higher and higher until we’re both panting, sweating, heaving masses of tangled flesh.

He presses his forehead to mine, his breath hot in my face, and I open my eyes to find him watching me. “Fable.” He swallows hard and closes his eyes, breathing so deep his bare chest brushes against mine. “You feel so fucking good.”

I’m completely undone. So is he. I feel like we’re both going to absolutely die if we don’t come at this very instant. Together. Orgasm number one is already a distant memory. Orgasm number two is threatening to take over and I wind my legs around his waist, sending him deeper.

His thrusts increase, become more urgent, and I move with him. Encouraging him with murmured words, stroking his back with my fingernails, resting my palms on his muscular backside so I can push him further. Our bodies are smashed so close together, I feel like we’re a permanent part of each other.

I’ve heard those sorts of declarations before. Where two become one and you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends, blah, blah, blah. I always thought it sounded like a bunch of romantic crap.

But I feel that way right now with Drew. As if our bodies are entwined, bound so tight we could never, ever come apart. His heart is mine.

And my heart is his.

I breathe his name across his lips as I begin to tremble. This orgasm is different than the first one. It starts low in my belly, radiating through my muscles, my bloodstream, until my entire body is shaking. He keeps moving, keeps thrusting, hard, harder, driving my climax on until he strains above me, consumed by his own orgasm.

I’m captivated by the powerful display of his tense muscles and I run my hands across his shoulders, down his chest. His skin is hot, his flesh unyielding, and tears threaten the corner of my eyes at the swell of emotion that threatens to take over me.

The need to express my feelings for him is so overwhelming, I’m afraid I might burst. I don’t want to say it first. He may have written it in a note, but he’s never, ever said those words out loud to me. I want him to say them.

I need him to say the words first.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhale deep, trying to calm my racing heart. Drew drops a lingering kiss to my forehead before he pulls away and climbs out of bed. I assume he’s throwing away the condom I never even realized he slipped on and I roll over on my side, hugging myself as I curl up into a ball.

My emotions are a jumbled mess. What the hell just happened? We’ve had plenty of sex the last few days but this time I feel like I was hit by a semi truck.

“Hey.” He rests his hand on my bare shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” I keep my back to him as he slides into bed with me. He wraps an arm around my middle and hauls me in close, so my back is nestled to his front. He’s still breathing hard too and I snuggle deeper into the pillow, close my eyes on a soft sigh when he starts raking his fingers through my hair.

I really love it when he does that. And he knows it too.

“Does it bother you? What, uh, happened to me?”

The question is so out of nowhere, I turn in his embrace so I can see his face, look into his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“What you found out. When you were with me at my dad’s house. Does it bother you?”

“Of course, it bothers me, but not in the way you think.” I touch his cheek, forcing him to meet my gaze. “I hate what you’ve endured. I hate what she did to you and how it makes you feel guilty. More than anything, I hurt for you. Your pain is still so fresh and I wish I could somehow take it away.”

“You do take it away. You make me feel like a real person. That it’s okay to be so free like this. Together. Sexually.” He closes his eyes, breathing deep. “You make me feel normal.”

Here I am being selfish and wishing he would just tell me he loves me and he’s still going through all of these turbulent emotions. Worrying that I’ll think less of him because he’s been abused. Yes, abused. He can call it an affair or whatever the hell else he says about Adele but she molested him.