Page 72 of Until Then

“Fuck.” He drops his head to my chest. “You’re killing me.”

“Please, don’t die before you fuck me.”

Chest shaking with amusement, he turns his head and presses a kiss to the underside of my jaw.

“Only you could make me laugh at a time like this.” He rises to his full height, and looks down at me, taking me in, naked and vulnerable. “God, you’re beautiful, Izzy.”

Izzy.

I’ve never loved the sound of my name more.

With a hand on his length, he gives himself a couple of pumps, then lines up at my entrance. He eases in like before, but this time, he goes deeper. Back out. In again.

He takes my hips, pulling me closer and sliding in deeper at the same time. With a gasp, I sit up straighter so I can put my arms around his shoulders.

When he pushes in again, he fills me completely, consuming me.

“Derrick, oh God.”

My body stretches to accommodate his size and I lean back again.

Full. So fucking full.

“Fuck,” he curses, gripping my throat with one hand. “God, look at you. Look at the way your pussy takes my cock. Such a good girl.”

With his other hand, he finds my clit and rubs circles with his thumb.

“Fuck, Izzy, you’re so pretty.” His eyes are glazed with lust and maybe something more as he takes me in.

He rocks his hips against mine, slow and steady. The deep, sure press of him has my eyes threatening to roll back. He fills me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It isn’t even about his size. It’s the way he knows exactly how to hold me, how to rock his hips so I get the best friction.

It’s a reminder that Derrick is very much a grown man, one with way more experience than any of the guys I’ve been with.

“Derrick.” His name is a plea. I reach for him, my fingers grazing his taut stomach. “Harder, please. I’m so close.”

His eyes darken at my words, their normal golden brown going molten. “You wanna come all over my cock, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” I stutter, nodding desperately.

He crashes his mouth to mine, stealing what little breath I have left.

He finds the speed and rhythm that has my body shaking, and when I go over that ledge screaming his name, he holds me through it.

His strokes slow as I come down from my orgasm, and he looks me over like he’s memorizing every inch of me, every millisecond of this encounter. He clenches his jaw, looking away with a muttered “fuck.”

Heart stumbling with fear, I cup his jaw and force his gaze back to me.

Is he regretting this already? He hasn’t even finished.

“What?” I implore.

He swallows, and I swear the fear that’s plaguing me flickers in his eyes. “I don’t want this to end.”

Relief sweeps through me, followed by surprise. Because he’s talking about more than justthis. He’s talking aboutus.

Teeth gritted, he squeezes his eyes shut and pumps into me. Then, with a moan, he buries his face in the crook of my neck and comes. Palming the back of his head, I hold him, wishing I never had to let go.

We stay like that for a minute, maybe two. I’m not sure. Time feels weird. Like it’s sped up and slowed down all at once. Probably because I’m struggling to wrap my head around what happened.

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