“For what?”
“For proving I wasn’t a fool for wanting you all these years, and for hoping that somehow this could be real.”
Pulling up, he crawled over me, hovering with a hard, muscled ease. Heat escaped from his skin in waves, matching my own. “Let me show you how real we can be, Amy.” Bending down, he planted a sweet kiss on my mouth, changing to a luscious promise. And then—
The rush of his tongue against my folds, the throb of my engorged lips and the raw intimacy pushed me to the edge with a cry, my fingers buried in his hair as he pushed me into abandon so quickly it surprised us both. As another orgasm grabbed me and shook me I cried out his name, the word all I knew, my body ragged and worn by the time his tongue stopped playing the virtuoso performance.
I reached for his hard self but his hand stopped me. “No. I need to be in you tonight. Deep in you. I want to touch the very core of you, Amy, and to watch your face as you come again, knowing you love me and I love you.”
Desire rushed full force again, bursting through my soul. “I do love you.”
“I love you, too.” The kiss was wet and lush, the taste of me on Sam’s tongue like a possession. Own me, I thought. Not in some obsessive way, but in a reciprocity and reveling in each other. I twisted and reached for my little end table, his hands all over my ass and breasts. Fumbling, I found my quarry and opened the foil wrapper, slowly rolling the condom over Sam’s pulsing cock.
“Ah, God,” he groaned, and then he did something I never expected.
Stretching out, he pulled me on top of him, guiding my hips into place so I perched above him. “I want to watch you in the moonlight,” he said as I dipped my head down to kiss him.
“Ride me.”
Sliding down over him was like coming to my real home, like finding my true core, as every connection of flesh with Sam strengthened me. The feel of him in me was so complete, and his hands filled with my breasts, the exotic, lavish touch more real than any reality I’d ever struggled to uphold.
Urging me with his hips, I began to pull up, then plunge down, gasping as he began to thrust back. Sam took one hand and reached between us, finding my sensitive clit, and stroked it with lazy circles. I tightened and he groaned, so I pulled my muscles inward and the effect was like lightning.
“That’s...incredible...” he said.
“So is that,” I murmured, meaning his fingers, playing me with perfect rhythm as separate parts of my body tightened and loosened, limbs and core all pulsing in different combinations until I increased the speed of our movements, Sam’s urgency and powerful strokes making me shake, building a powerful pressure inside me I’d never felt before.
“Oh, God!” I rasped. “What is this?”
“Let it happen,” he said through gritted teeth, his own orgasm obviously close.
And then.
And then.
I arched up, my body no longer mine, our bodies now a distinct entity, cleaved and welded together as one, the climax greater than any I’d ever experienced. Sam’s hoarse words matched my cries of ecstasy and I rode him with unbridled, unselfconscious bliss. Lost in every aspect of what our bodies and hearts and mouths and hands were doing right now, we existed solely to connect and bring pleasure to each other, the mounting pressure now released in a white-hot power that seemed otherworldly. Love, in flesh form, transported me, the rush of my hair against my back, the whisper of his fingertips at my breasts, the hot breath that danced between us all part of so many years, so many dreams.
My fingers dug into his shoulders, my ass curled up, my body shook and wept until I collapsed on his, completely spent, my breathing labored and hard, hot air curling into his neck and hair as we both twitched and panted our way back to the pale imitation that others called “reality.”
A kiss on my shoulder shook me out of my stupor. “Amy.”
“What?”
“I just love saying your name while I’m in you.”
That made me laugh and that made him no longer be in me. We descended into a fit of giggles that took a very long time to control.
“I love you. I love being able to say that,” I confessed.
“I love you, too.” He kissed my shoulder. “And I love hearing you say it.”
We rested in silence, staring at the ceiling, my breasts pressed into his ribs, one hand playing with the hair on his chest, his palm caressing my arm. The way our skin effortlessly molded together, like we were made to fit together, gave the moment a deeper meaning.
“Amy?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I ask you a question? Are we still being truthful?”
“Of course.” My fingers played with the little thatch of hair on his chest, the red a deep auburn.
“Darla made a joke once about your hoohaw.”
I froze.
“Something about a phone.” Warm palms roamed over my breasts, just touching for the sake of touch.
“You know, Sam.” I cleared my throat. “Sometimes there can be too much truth in a relationship....”
THE END