“Oh!” she gasped as the friction deepened and caused a sharp sensation to yank her back into arousal.
“Shh,” he urged, slowing his movements, caressing her hip and breast. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.” She grabbed her pillow and buried her moans into it, giving herself over to him and his needs and the excitement he was rekindling in her. She moved with him, finding the rhythm, wanting this to be the real thing, unable to believe she was almost there again, almost...
They found the crisis together, the sweetness of it so intense she forgot to breath, but maybe that was his arm locked around her rib cage. She kneeled in his fierce grip, loving the feel of his muscles twitching with contractions as she held in her scream of abandonment as her thighs quivered in ecstasy.
His heart continued to pound against her shoulder even after they’d collapsed onto their sides, spooned together. His breaths stirred her hair and he had one warm hand clasped possessively over her breast.
Fern blinked to focus in the dark, stunned by how wild that had been. Very lusty. Kind of dirty. Yet it made her feel so close to him. She resisted the urge to snuggle backward into him, but he stroked his hand down her front and tugged her tight against him, then kissed her shoulder before he relaxed with his nose in her hair.
She blinked her damp eyes, feeling cherished and safe.
“I want to see you. All of you,” he whispered.
“Why?” she asked, warming at the thought.
“Because I think your freckles would be pretty.”
“They’re not. I look like a speckled pony. That’s what my mother used to say. She didn’t like them. Should you stay?” she asked, partly to change the subject, partly because she wanted to prepare herself. This was really nice, but she had to remember it was temporary. “I don’t want to fall asleep.”
“Can you put your tablet on vibrate and set the alarm?”
As she reached through the dark to where she’d left it and clicked it on, he tilted the light to her chest.
“Don’t,” she murmured, lifting it away and tapping, showing him the time she set.
“That’s fine,” he agreed, gathering her into his naked length as she set it away again. “Why didn’t she like them?” He caressed down to her belly and back up to her breast.
“Probably because I got them from my father. Maybe just because they were a part of me. She didn’t like me much.”
His hand stalled on her hip. “Are you being serious?”
“I shouldn’t be, should I? I’ll stop.” She rolled into him and nuzzled her nose into the hair sprinkled against his breastbone, hands fondling between them. “Why are you still hard? I thought men, you know, relaxed after.”
He’d run a towel down her belly and thighs before pulling her to the mattress with him. They’d definitely found their pleasure together.
“I’d dearly love to know how to ‘relax’ around you, Fern. Being hard this much hurts.”
Don’t laugh, she thought, pretty sure that men didn’t have much of a sense of humor when it came to sexual frustration, but she was insanely flattered.