Page 15 of Not Made to Last

How can I not be?

Those words? From her mouth? Not to mention that she’s practically spread out on top of me, her breasts brushing against my face as she continues to reach up, her heated fingertips making their way up my arm.

I can feel the fire—their flames flicking through my bloodline, pulsating throughout my entire body, right down to my cock.

Her hand searches my empty one, and she groans in frustration.

I’m no longer laughing.

No longer breathing.

Her hands move again, searching for my other arm, and I grip the phone tighter because no fucking way am I letting her have it. Her hand’s on my wrist now—so close to her end goal—and without thinking, I brace my arm around her waist and pull her away.

Pull her down.

Right onto my erection.

We freeze, our entire bodies locked.

Surrendered.

In the few seconds since she came for me, I hadn’t realized that she’d practically straddled my hips, her knees on either side. That dull ache from the impact earlier? Completely gone, it seems. Now her pussy’s pressed against my hardened cock, and I’m sure she can feel it because she?—

She moans.

I exhale. Slowly. Silently. And I can feel the heat emitting from her center, can feel her short breaths against my chin. She attempts to lift herself up, but I tighten my grip, push her back down. This time, she shifts on me. Not a lot. Just enough to let me know she feels me too. My pulse pounds, vibrating across my flesh, and I can’t seem to inhale enough air to satisfy my need for life. The hoodie still covers her eyes, but her mouth…

Her mouth is so close to mine, lips wet, parted. All it would take is a slight lift of my head… but, I wouldn’t do that to her. I can’t. Instead, I release my phone, let it drop on the metal beneath us, and then grasp the back of the hood, clearing her vision.

Her eyes are closed when they’re first revealed, and they land right on mine when she opens them.

And those cheeks… stained pink from exertion, from lust.

She wants this as much as I do.

I lick my lips, and she does the same.

Gently, I thrust up, wanting to see her reaction.

Her breaths falter, her eyes widening just slightly.

And then she responds to my action with one of her own—a slight circling of her hips. I almost lose all control at the sudden pleasure that spreads through me—like a series of waves about to create a tsunami.

My hand is on her thigh—thick fucking thighs made for grabbing—and I don’t know how it got there. I move up slowly, watching her every breath, her every reaction, until I find the bottom of her denim shorts, and I can’t look away. I don’t even want to blink. I go higher, higher, until my palm settles on the curve of her ass. I squeeze, pushing her onto me firmer, harder. I want her to know what she’s done to me, how my body’s reacted to her. How she so easily controlled me, possessed me. Every single inch of me.

Her head falls, lands on my shoulder, but she doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

I keep one hand on her ass as the other bunches the fabric of the hoodie until I find the end, and then I reach beneath it. Her skin is flaming hot against mine, and I trace down her spine to her waist, memorizing the shape of her.

Her grinds are short, tiny circles, and I can feel the warmth of her scattered breaths through my T-shirt, spreading onto my chest.

Fuck, I’d give anything to be inside her.

“Liv,” I croak, my throat aching with the single word that could possibly end this.

She lifts her head just enough to meet my eyes, and I don’t know who kisses who first.

---