The Pact(62)

“So fucking good,” he hisses from above me and then he lets out a sharp cry as his pace quickens. I can feel his body shudder against mine as he comes, the quick, heavy inhales, the drops of sweat as they fall off him and onto my back. “Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Each word that shoots out of his mouth is punctuated by deep, strong thrusts until he begins to fade inside me.

I’m still swirling, swimming, drowning from the deepest fucking orgasm I’ve ever had as he slowly pulls himself out of me and collapses on the bed. He drapes one arm across my chest, his face buried into the crook of my neck, breathing hard. It’s so safe, so intimate.

As the desire and lust begin to melt away with the rest of my bones, another surge is building up inside me.

This was so good.

Too good.

My Linden.

This was with my Linden.

I don’t think I will ever be the same.

No. I know I won’t be. I can’t be, not after this.

There is no going back.

And then I’m hit with a sledgehammer made of heart and truth that feels like its blowing me to smithereens. I don’t want to ever be with anyone else. I can’t be with anyone else. I want Linden and I want him forever. Tears spring to my eyes as I clamp them shut and think, You’re it, you’re it, you’re it. All this time you’ve been it.

I’m not sure if he’s thinking the same thing, because he’s gently brushing the hair off my face and kissing my forehead, between my brows, the tip of my nose, my lips, my chin. He says, his voice low and rough, “Nine years. I’ve been waiting nine years for this. Nine years to finally have you the way I’ve always needed you.”

I blink my eyes open and stare up at him. His look is so intense, so sincere that I feel like I’m sinking further into the mattress, like I’m boneless and stupefied. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe he’s lying here with me naked, that my body still throbs from where his cock was inside me, that he’s telling me things I’ve only dreamed of hearing.

“And now that I’ve had you,” he says softly, his fingertip wiping away a tear that I didn’t know had escaped, “I want nothing else.”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat but I can’t.

“I don’t want anything else either,” I say but the words sound choked.

He gives me a tender smile and kisses my forehead. “My baby blue.”

“My cowboy.”

“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

He’s right. I know we will.

But as I drift off to sleep, naked and in his arms, I’m aware of how quickly things have changed. A week ago we were friends. Now we are lovers.

It feels perfect. Almost too good to be true.

And because of that, I’m afraid it might be.

I’m afraid this won’t come easily to us.

I’m afraid.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LINDEN



When I wake up, I can’t fucking believe my eyes. In fact, I’m tempted to pinch myself to make sure I’m still not dreaming. Because, hell, if that was a dream, it was the best one I’ve ever had.

But it’s not a dream. Beside me, in my bed of messy sheets and covers, there is a gorgeous, perfect woman lying on her side, her back to me. The lines of her sides where her waist dips down and her hips rise up should be on a classic portrait. But none of those birds have an ass like she does. No one else has anything that she has.

That’s why she is who she is.

Fuck me. I can’t fucking believe I slept with her last night.

Stephanie Fucking Robson.

I grin to myself. I can’t help it. I almost start laughing, just because I am so god damn lucky and that hasn’t escaped me at all. No, with her perfect, lush, curvy body in my bed, I am just showered with luck, slapped in the face with it.

And it was better than I had imagined. All those years jacking off to her, fucking other girls while thinking of her, all those actual dreams I had – none of them compare to what it was really like. Her taste, the way she felt when I was deep inside her, her eyes and how they glowed like a summer’s morning after she came. No fantasy can ever compare to what Stephanie is really like.

“Are you staring at my ass?” she mumbles without moving and I jolt a little at the sound of her voice.

“Er, yes,” I admit. “But if you could see your own ass, you’d stare too.”

She slowly rolls over and blinks at me and the sunshine streaming through the windows. Yes, it’s one hell of a beautiful morning, even the finicky SF weather agrees. “Hi,” she says sleepily.

“Hi,” I say right back, grinning like an idiot. I move closer to her so I’m flush against her side and my morning wood does a good job of making itself known against her hip.