Page 50 of Pocketful of Us

I finally understood what Chris had died to protect us from.

There was a war raging outside, but this treehouse had always been our fortress. and it was our sanctuary tonight.

"Here," I confirmed, reckless.

All common sense had left my brain, instinct taking the driver's seat of my thought process. I loved him. I needed him. that was all I knew. All I could feel in this moment.

His conflicted gaze burned through me like molten lava. "But what if –"

"Here," I repeated, covering his mouth with mine.

Our limbs tangled together in a heady rush after that; fingers moving quick and restless to rid each other of the clothes that separated our flesh.

Closer.

That was all I could think.

I needed to get closer to him.

I need tojoinmy body with his.

When every stitch of clothing separating our skin had been shed, discarded carelessly around us, I found myself on my back with the only boy I'd ever loved between my legs.

With my back crushed to the floor, I hooked my leg around his waist, crying out when I felt him slide all the way inside me. He was thick and long and so unbelievably hard.

Feeling my eyes burn from the pressure I was absorbed in, I exhaled a ragged breath and arched my back, letting my head fall backwards, smacking against the timber. I felt his teeth on the lobe of my ear, dragging the flesh into his mouth with a sharp tug.

I groaned, rocking my hips into his thrust, wanting him to break me in half because I could think of no better way to go. His lips scorched a burning trail from my neck to the tips of my straining breasts. His fingers dug into the fleshy part of my thighs before hitching my leg higher, giving him more access to what he owned entirely.

My body.

Restless and impatient, I dragged my fingernails up and down his back, desperate to get closer, to feel more, to drown in everything he was. "Don’t stop." Fisting his hair in my hands, I rocked my hips upward, my entire body jolting with every delicious foreign invasion of his body in mine. "Please don’t ever stop."

I couldn’t breathe.

My heart felt like it was bursting out of my chest.

"I've got you, Ro," Sketch told me, as he dropped a hand between our joined bodies and began to thumb my clit. "Fuck," he groaned, never breaking his rhythm as he plunged inside of me with reckless abandon. "You feel so fucking good it hurts."

I could hardly stand the pressure he was drawing to life inside of me. I was close. I could feel it in the way my body jolted violently. Every time he touched that tiny bundle of nerves, or ground his pelvis against my pubic bone, I toppled closer to the edge.

"Sketch," I cried out, breathless, as his hand trailed from my clit to grip my hip before making the journey back between my legs. His fingers grazed my stomach as they made their descent and then quickly backpedaled. I tensed. He continued to kiss me, hips still thrusting, but I could tell he was distracted as he poked and prodded my belly as inconspicuously as he could.

I stiffened, tensing beneath his big body, as reality came crashing down on me.

I had to tell him.

I should have told him earlier.

I couldn’t do it now, dammit.

What the heck was I supposed to say?

Oh God…

Finally, Sketch's curiosity got the better of him and he broke our kiss. Keeping one hand firmly clamped on my hip, he slowly drew himself into a kneeling position, still thrusting himself deep inside of me.

I watched his gaze trail down my body, knowing exactly where it was going, but I said nothing, having no freaking idea of how to drop this particular bomb shell.

---