He inhales sharply and releases my other hand. Moving his hands to my waist, he then slides his hand to my lower back, forcefully pulling me to him. I am shaking with need as I shift my hands down to grab him. When my fingers stroke his thick shaft and I circle his tip, he groans.
He lifts his head and stares at me. "I need to be inside of you."
"I'm yours. Take me."
Forgoing any foreplay, his hands push my legs further apart. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before crushing his mouth to mine. I close my eyes as fire explodes through my body. Then he grabs both of my hands and raises them back over my head, holding my hands in place with one of his. I watch him as he takes himself in his hand, readying himself for me, and I gasp at the pure eroticism of it all. He plunges into me and I scream out as he takes what's his. The pace he sets is hard and fast. Watching him and feeling the weight of his body on mine makes me tremble. I can't touch him and somehow that only makes my need for him more intense. I know what he's doing-he's marking me, but I don't care. He already owns every piece of me. If he needs this to remind him, I'll give it to him.
When he grinds himself deep inside me, my head falls back and my legs tighten around him without any conscious thought. He urges me to follow his pace as he moves hard and fast and I follow. He seems to get lost in the moment, like he can't get enough of me. I close my eyes and just absorb every ounce of him.
We touch each other everywhere. Our hands, our lips, our bodies, they never leave each other. Running, pressing, skimming, and gliding over every ounce of flesh, we continue to move at a pace we never have before. I open my eyes in time to see his close. My moans turn into his groans and before I know it I am screaming, "Oh God, yes!" over and over again. Pausing before taking one final thrust, he does the same.
Shuddering, he pulls out of me and lifts my arms over my head again with one hand while the other moves down my body. I'm taken aback as to what he's doing but when his hot breath hits my neck and his hand cups my sex, I know. I moan. I can't help it. I'm already so wet from the combination of him and me, that when he inserts two fingers inside me they easily slide in. His thumb presses against me as his fingers move in and out, over and over. I can feel him harden against my thigh and the need to have him inside me is stronger than ever. He moves his mouth to my breast and circles the nipple with his tongue before sucking on it, and, although I just came, I can feel it building again. The warm hardness resting on my thigh, his hand on my sex, his mouth on my nipple-it's sensory overload and I scream out as pleasure tears through me.
I'm still panting a minute later when, without a word, he picks me up and carries me the rest of the way up the stairs and into the house. After kicking the door shut, he sets me on the bed and lies next to me, urging me to move on top of him. Of course I do. I tuck my arms under his neck and lay my head on his chest. Once my breathing calms, I kiss his neck and then nuzzle into it. He kisses my head and rests his cheek there. We both know we have to talk, but neither of us wants to and that's okay for now.
After a few minutes, I peek up at him and his eyes are fixed on me. I raise one eyebrow and smirk at him.
He grins back. "What?"
I try to make light of a situation that I know is nothing but heavy. "You skipped all the romance, Loverboy."
Laughing, he says, "You know it can't always be rainbows and butterflies."
I grin at him, remembering the first weekend we spent together and how I asked him if he was dreaming of rainbows and butterflies. Then inching myself up next to him on the pillow so that we are nose to nose, I say, "I think you got the butterflies part down pretty well."
We lay together for a long while, but neither one of us falls asleep. Leaning over him, I push the hair from his eyes and kiss his nose. "I missed you today."
"I missed you, too."
"Don't ever not call me again."
"Dahlia, you're the one who wouldn't talk to me at Grace's and then took off. Calling you wouldn't change what happened, and, honestly, I was pissed at you and didn't want to talk to you."
Tears well in my eyes, and he pulls me back down to him. "Besides, how could I call you when you smashed your phone?"
I look at him, dumbfounded. "How do you know that?"
"I called Aerie this morning and she told me she was on her way to see you. Later on she texted me that you got mad and threw your phone. Care to tell me why?"
"I think you already know why, smart-ass."