Page 48 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

She’s quivering under me when the last wave breaks. My arms are locked around her, holding her through the aftershocks, through the mess, through the ragged gasps and fluttering moans.

I kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Her jaw. “Baby,” I whisper, “you okay? Talk to me.”

She hums something soft, and I shift her gently onto her back. Start cleaning her up, dabbing at the slick between her thighs with a shirt I don’t even remember throwing off. Sheflinches a little when I wipe over her, too sensitive, and I slow down. Kiss her knee. Her hip. Her stomach.

“Too much?” I ask, stroking her thigh. My voice is so full of her I can barely speak without breaking.

She shakes her head, dazed and smiling. “Not too much. Just… everything.”

My chest aches. With love. With want. With this unbearable sweetness that’s tangled itself around every rib and refuses to let go.

“Let me hold you,” I whisper, and she nods. I pull her close, curling around her, cradling her against my chest, scared she’ll vanish if I blink too long.

I run my fingers through her hair. Kiss her temple. Murmur soft things I’ll never say out loud in daylight.

She breathes steady for a minute. Then shifts. Looks up at me with a sleepy, fucked-out smile. “You’re staring,” she teases, voice rough.

“I can’t help it,” I breathe. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her smile wavers like I’ve caught her off guard. Then she tugs me down into a kiss, soft, slow, grateful.

I slide my thigh between hers, coaxing her open just a little, just enough to feel the heat still radiating from her. My cock’s hard again, already aching, but I don’t push. I just press my lips to her collarbone and breathe her in.

“I can’t stop,” I say against her skin. “I don’t want to stop.”

She arches into me, a soft gasp escaping her mouth. “Then don’t.”

I groan and roll on top of her again, this time gentle. No rush. No frenzy. Just her and me and the way our bodies fit. I push in slow, deep, and intimate. Her legs curl around my hips like she needs me just as bad.

“Oh god,” she whispers, clutching my shoulders. “You feel… so good like this.”

A shaky exhale escapes me. “Fuck, don’t stop talking like that. I need it.”

Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me down for a kiss. “You feel like you’re part of me.”

Fuck. I moan right into her mouth.

I move with slow rolls of my hips, letting her feel every inch, every stroke. I kiss her jaw. Her cheeks. Her eyelids. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never want to stop.”

Her hands roam my back, my chest, holding me close like I’m something precious. “You don’t have to,” she says.

I make love to her like I’ll never see the sun again, whispering praise between kisses. Worshipping her with every stroke.

And when she comes again, soft and slow and glowing, I follow right after, groaning her name like a promise.

We stay tangled. Kissing. Breathing. Belonging. We’re a mess. Sticky. Breathless. Wrung out in every way a person can be. And I’ve never felt better.

She’s draped across my chest like she belongs there. One leg slung over my waist, hand splayed flat on my chest, heartbeat syncing with mine like she’s already moved in under my skin.

I stroke her back, slow and lazy. Press kisses to her temple, her hairline, the soft curve of her ear.

“I’m not gonna survive this,” I say.

She hums without opening her eyes. “Survive what?”

“You.” I grin like an idiot. “This. All of it. I’m done for, baby.”

Her smile curves against my chest. “You’re dramatic.”

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