Page 88 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

Sexy.

His body takes mine as I take his, meeting him thrust for thrust, pulse for racing pulse, trading my harsh breathing for his, and begging for more. He chants, “I’ve wanted you for so long . . . so long, baby.” Baby falls from his lips in lust, from a deep desire he can’t control, just between us. Even though he says he’s wanted me since we met, it still feels surreal to be with him now.

“Rad . . .” His name is my mantra that plays on repeat.

“God, you feel so good.”

It’s too much—his deep voice, the rhythm we find pushing us to our limits, toward that cliff, the feel of him everywhere—in, out, and all around me, taking me body and soul. Kissing my neck, he dips his hand to rub just the right place above our connection. “So good.”

Our bodies are still bonded when his eyes lock on mine, his biceps carved of stone when he rises above me, my own personal Michelangelo staring back at me. A growl vibrates through him, spurring him to pump harder.

He kisses my cheek and works his way to my ear, whispering, “I won’t . . .” His brows pinch when the words appear too heavy a burden to share.

As I run my nails along his jawline, my own feelings bloom inside. I ask, “You won’t what, Rad?”

On the tip of a breath, he replies, “I won’t ever hurt you.”

I lift and kiss where my fingers were. “I know.”

We lose ourselves in each other with kisses and thrusts, moans, and names uttered as prayers.

Begging for this to last forever, I’m conflicted as I race toward the finish, feeling too good to take things slow. I watch his stomach muscles tense and flex, his biceps working to pump and push, hold and move, a dance between what he wants and his body’s desire. Incredible is not fitting for this man.

The coil tightens my core, and I take a breath to release the pressure, but there’s no holding back any longer. We fall together this time, lost in our passion and the sound of love being made until my heart escapes my soul, choosing to embed it into his chest instead. “Oh, my God. Yes. Rad.” I squeeze my eyes closed as my body awakens.

“I need you, baby,” he groans as if the words themselves pain him in his pleasure. He follows me, drifting into the sweet abyss. Then his body collapses on top of me, his weight locked in my embrace.

He was right.Pure heaven.

He rolls to the side and tries to catch his breath. I’m not sure how long we lie there before our heartbeats regulate. I look over at him. “I didn’t think it could be like that.”

“You asked for spectacular,” he says, his breath grazing across my skin.

“You delivered.” I reach over and run my fingers through his hair. “It was spectacular.”

I smile and then kiss his head and his temple, rubbing his back until he catches his breath. “You’re pretty spectacular yourself.”

Night arrived before we had a chance to say goodbye to the day. Finding my hand between us, he brings it to his lips and looks my way. With only the light from the living room slipping in through the door, it would be so easy to fall asleep in his arms. And I almost do until I hear him say, “You’re spectacular.”

If there’s one thing I’ve always loved about Rad, it’s his motto of not saying anything for the sake of appeasement. I know they’re not just words to him.

They’re his truth, which becomes mine because when I’m with him, I feel spectacular. He has given me that power.

Sliding onto my side, I drape my leg over his and rest my head on his chest.

His heart is beating fast and strong, and I begin to fall—floating in this bliss, finding sleep, and into love.

28

Rad

I had sex with Tealey Bell.

Made love.

Did the deed.

Hit a home run.

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