Page 82 of Handcuffed to the Bear

Seeing the look on her face, Jack grinned. “Like that?” he whispered.

For answer, she put her other hand above her head, wrists together. Jack laid his across hers, pinning them. A sharp snap of electricsomethingrushed through her.

It’s okay to want.

Okay to need.

Okay to relax, and just be?—

She closed her eyes and fell into the sensations.

“You know,” he said, panting between strokes, “I do have handcuffs—I could get them?—”

“Not now!” She pulled herself back from that wordless, wonderful place enough to snap the words, and wrapped her legs around him, holding him to her.

I just want to feel you.

I just want to feelme.

With each stroke, a rush of heat filled her. She felt it all the way to the backs of her teeth, tingling through her whole body, driving her higher and higher. Words abandoned her, then; she was a creature of pure feeling now, existing in a timeless space where nothing was real but her body’s desire and the soul-deep craving linking her to Jack.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, in time with his. They moved in unison, faster and faster. The growing sensation built and built, until she didn’t think she could take it anymore, and then?—

—on the bare edge, hepaused, for a long endless instant—as if heknew, as if he could keep her there, keepthemthere: her body thrumming with ecstasy, her entire self poised on the edge of a plunge into the rapids of orgasm?—

—too much, and not enough; the growing need for release, the anticipation building and building?—

—and then he moved again, rocking his hips forward in one last powerful thrust, and she came with an explosion of white-hot sensation, the crescendo bursting through her and rolling down her limbs until every part of her sang with pleasure.

She might have cried out; she wasn’t sure.

They rode out the aftershocks together, until at last they lay limp and sweaty on the rumpled sheets, tangled together and too spent to move.

At last, he was the one to stir, carefully untangling himself and moving into a more comfortable position. He rolled up the condom and dropped it into the bedside trash.

“That was ...” Words failed her. “Amazing,” she managed at last.

“Did the earth move?” Jack asked, smiling. He kissed the side of her face.

“I don’t know. It might have. I wouldn’t have noticed an eight on the Richter Scale if it was right under us.”

They kissed lazily. Casey stretched out, her entire body limp with happy lassitude. An occasional little flutter clenched her, inside, a pleasant echo of the afternoon’s activities. Even her leg didn’t really hurt at the moment.

“Glad I came over,” she murmured.

“Mmm. Me too.”

After a little while Jack got up. Casey made a faint protesting sound and rolled limply into his warm spot, but she mustered the energy to sit up when he came back with their mostly-uneaten lunch.

“Don’t know about you,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “but I worked up an appetite.”

“Me too.” She took the plate he handed her, and laughed. “This does stop eventually, right? I feel like I don’t do anything anymore except eat!”

“It’ll stop. Don’t fight it. Your body needs it. Eat if you want to eat, sleep if you want to sleep.”

“Both, I think,” she said, around a mouthful of burger. “Both sounds good.”

“Not at once, I hope. You might choke.”

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