Page 95 of Between Now & Heartbreak

“I don’t…I don’t know how to do that,” I confess.

His hands cup my hips, he rocks them and pushes deeper into me.

I moan and roll them again.

“Just like that,” he praises me.

“That feels so good,” I pant

“Fuck yeah, it does,” he groans.

“Try this.” He lifts me up slowly, sliding me off his cock and then pushing me back down.

I throw my head back and sigh.

“Does that feel good?” He does it again. This time he thrusts up and my thighs tremble.

“Oh my God, so good.” I move myself this time and after a few more times I find a rhythm.

He doesn’t say another word. He just watches me, and meets me thrust for thrust.

I ride him until I feel the first flicker of my orgasm. I slide one hand off his shoulder and in between my thighs and start to rub my clit.

His shudder runs through him and I open my eyes to find him watching me with the most exquisite look of ecstasy on his face.

I feel a surge of power, at the sight of the glorious man beneath, me letting me set the pace, letting me find my own pleasure, and it’s what sends me over. I come, clinging to him and the cry that falls from my lips fills the room like a song of victory.

We’re lying in the hazy afterglow of blistering orgasms. Both of us drenched in sweat and gasping to catch our breath.

This is only the second time we’ve been together, but it feels like we’ve been doing this since the beginning of time.

Since the first time we met, we’ve fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Perfectly, easily, and when we are together the tableau of life goes from chaotic to sensible.

I look down at his sleeping face, and soak in all the beauty that’s him.

A chill sweeps over me. He’s leaving soon. And then, what?

I need have my own way out. I love him. I’m sure he loves me.

But I won’t put my life in his, or anyone’s, hands again.

I press a kiss to his cheek and get out of bed.

29

THE TRUTH

CARTER

When I wake up,I’m alone. I can smell her on the pillow, the flowers of her perfume and the smoke from the night club mingled with her sweat and tears. I inhale, but don’t take any comfort from it. The spot where she should be laying is cool. I can feel the weight of resignation in the air.

I get up and go in search of her. She’s out on her small balcony, staring into the night sky. I can tell by the stiff set of her shoulders that she’s not standing there replaying all of the ways I fucked her tonight. I grab a bottle of Scotch and two glasses from the small bar in her kitchen and pull the door open.

She startles, but doesn’t turn when I step outside to join her.

“Liquor for your thoughts?” I hold up the bottle of whiskey I picked up on my way.

She lets out an irritable sigh before she rolls her eyes at the bottle in my hand.

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