Page 43 of A Brother At My Back

I kissed him back and held him tightly to me, running from the tumult of emotions raging inside, right into the stillness, the togetherness that he projected. He was so sure of himself and that everything would be okay and I so wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him with everything that I was.

I moaned as he ground his lower body into mine. Somehow he’d gotten between my thighs and oh, how I wanted him to be there. I’d been having plenty of sex but I was starved for the attention and affection he was giving to me. I wound my fingers in his long hair and held it back from his face. I couldn’t remember when he’d pulled it from his ponytail, but I knew he generally did to sleep.

I kissed him back, wrapped my arms and legs around him and met his grinding with thrusting urgent rising of my hips. Insistent, wanting, desperate to be with him in every way that counted. The floodgates were open, my heart was open, and I wanted to let him in so badly… and for once I wasn’t afraid. I knew, instinctively, that Nik would never raise a hand to me. That he would never hurt me intentionally.

I tore my mouth from his and begged him, “Please.”

He reached off the side of the bed and came back with a wrapped condom, tearing it open with his teeth, breaths heavy and passionate. He reached between us and rolled it on, shoving his underwear down and off; hands going to the waistband of mine.

He pulled them down my legs, sweeping them off and dropping them somewhere behind him, pulling the blankets up around us to stave off the chill of the apartment. I didn’t care about it. I cared about being skin-on-skin with him. I cared about being as close as possible, so I quickly grabbed the hem of his loaned tee and pulled it off over my head.

He dry-humped me, his cock sliding tantalizingly against my pussy and I kissed him, the urgency to have him inside me rising. We kissed, breath heavy and laden with a desire and passion too heavy to hold in our lungs.

He braced his arms to either side of my head, his hands smoothing strands of hair from my face, dark eyes meeting mine, the tenderness in his touch, the look on his face almost had me completely undone and then he slid inside me.

I cried out, it felt so good, and wrapped my legs around him, my hands drifting up and down his back, urging him on, but he took his time, slow and deliberate with every stroke. Every movement was laden with his intention to love me and I died a little death, gladly, in his arms.

It was perfect. Just so perfect and he felt so good. I felt good, and I loved it, needed it, and was so grateful for it.

“Don’t stop,” I begged breathily, “Please don’t stop!”

“Never,” he growled lightly against my lips, and I swear it felt like I was falling forever but I wasn’t scared. I had no reason to be scared. I knew he would catch me.

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