Page 150 of The Overtime Kiss

She pushes down my jeans and frees my aching cock, then runs her nimble hand down my shaft, sending sparks of pleasure forking through my entire body. Flames shoot through me as she strokes from base to tip and back, rubbing her thumb across the crown.

“I’m negative. What about you?”

“Me too.”

Then she guides my cock toward her. But I stop. Point to the door. Move her from the wall to the door, hike up her leg, and hitch it around my hip.

Then I notch the head of my cock against her slick wetness and slide home.

Filling her all the way.

For a moment, neither one of us moves. I just stay there, trembling. Fucking trembling—my nerves frying, my circuits overloading.

Then I whisper the words that keep echoing over and over again in my head. “It’s different like this,” I say.

She nods savagely. “Yes, it is.”

But it’s not because we’re bare.

It’s because I know—I justknow.

I fuck her the way she wants. Hard and fast and full of passion. But something else entirely.

This growing, soul-deep connection between the two of us is so much more than sex dates. So much more than lessons. So much more than something undefined.

It’s becoming something incredibly clear to me.

I run a hand through her hair, look her in the eye as I drive deep, and I say, “Because I feel closer to you.”

“Me too,” she says, like her voice is breaking.

I check the clock, and we’ve still got time, so I tap the brakes. I fuck her in a slow, deep rhythm that I hope starts to tell her everything I’m feeling in my heart.

That I want to get closer.

That I want her to be mine.

That she makes my heart feel bigger, brighter, happier.

That I don’t just want a career and happy kids.

That I want more.

That I wanther.

And like that, with those thoughts relentlessly pressing into my mind, she comes undone once again, and I follow her.

A little later, after we’ve cleaned up and hopped into the town car, I can’t wait any longer. I reach for her hand, clasp it in mine, and I say, “We can’t keep doing this.”

38

THIS LABEL

Sabrina

I freeze.

In the back of the town car, zigzagging toward Park Slope, passing last-minute shoppers rushing down the sidewalks, swinging red and white shopping bags, my body goes cold.

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