Page 64 of Second Chance Fate

He stood and lifted her effortlessly in one motion, his hands supporting her thighs as her legs wrapped around his waist. She nuzzled into the crux of his neck, inhaling the masculinescent that was uniquely him. She could feel his pulse against her cheek, strong and steady, as he carried her to the bed, then ever so gently lowered her down. The mattress dipped beneath their weight.

She was on her back as he straightened and quickly and efficiently removed his jeans and boxer briefs, pushing them down his legs as he climbed onto the bed. She parted her legs, and he hovered above her, bracing his weight on his forearms, their faces inches apart. There was nothing rushed or greedy in his movements. He kissed her—soft, then urgent, then soft again—while his hands roamed down her body, teasing the sensitive skin at her waist, the dip of her stomach, and the curve above her hipbone. Every touch seemed to ask for permission, and every sigh and arch of her back answered,yes, yes, yes, please, yes.

She lost herself in the feel of him, the taste of him, the weight of him, and the sure and steady way he moved. Her hands explored him, memorizing the way his body responded to her touch. He matched her actions, his fingers grazing over every inch of her. He shifted his body to the side and trailed his hand down her stomach. She reached between them and wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft. He pulsed heavily in her palm as her thighs opened wider for him. His finger found her swollen clit, and he began to flick it lightly as she tightened her hold on him and stroked him up and then down. He swelled, growing larger in her hand as a jolt of pleasure rushed through her. Her thumb circled his sensitive tip with each upward motion as she writhed beneath him, coating his finger with her arousal. He groaned into her mouth; his hips moved in sync with the rhythm of her steady, firm strokes.

Every caress and touch ignited her senses like a live wire coursing through her veins. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge and knew that she wanted him to go over it with her. She pulled his lower lip between her teeth and bit downon it as she tightened her grip around the base of his shaft and sped up the motion of her hand jerking him off. Within seconds, she felt his body tense, but he moved away from her and shifted down the bed, replacing his hand with his mouth. Instead of his finger flicking her swollen nub, it was now his tongue lapping over her pleasure button. His fingers pushed inside of her as he sucked and licked her clit.

No one had ever touched her like this before, not with such tender intent, not with such soul-stirring devotion. The moment Caleb’s mouth closed around her, the world seemed to snap into hyper-focus: her senses lit up edge to edge, nerves singing with a need that built and built until all she could do was hold on and let herself be carried away. Her fingers fisted in the comforter beside her as her hips jerked up to meet him, her thighs trembling as Caleb buried his face between her legs. She arched her back into him, moaning as his rough stubble grazed her inner thighs. He circled the bundle of nerves at the hood of her sex with his tongue, flicking and sucking until she was writhing underneath him.

Taylor gasped at the sensation, bucking against his mouth as she felt herself getting wetter by the second. She wanted more than anything for him to be inside of her when she came, but before she could communicate that, the built-up sexual tension in her body reached critical mass, causing an orgasmic chain reaction. She saw stars, literally, as flashes of white exploded behind her closed lids while she came apart with a full-body shudder. It was raw and beautiful and more powerful than anything she’d ever felt—like a dam bursting and every wound being washed clean in the flood. She heard herself whimper his name again, gasping with pleasure as he kept his mouth steady, riding the aftershocks until her legs finally went limp beside his shoulders.

Taylor didn’t even have time to recover before he slid smoothly back up, his face flushed with heat. He kissed her, slow and deep, and she tasted herself on his tongue, which only served to make the experience feel more intimate. He gathered her against his chest and flipped their positions so he was on his back. She felt the wild hammer of his heartbeat and the solid safety of his arms as her body molded to him, boneless and sated.

She blinked up at him, tears stinging her eyes—not from sadness, but from the sheer, overwhelming tenderness of it all. He brushed her hair gently behind her ear, his expression wide open, and in that instant, Taylor saw a future she’d never allowed herself to imagine, one that held the promise of safety and happiness. She was still breathless, still tingling, still hungry for him, but now it was mixed with something daring and bright and impossibly hopeful.

Caleb held Taylor tightly to him, his hand running up and down her back, as he tried to get his body under control. He just wanted to relish every second of just being this close to another person. It had been so long since he’d experienced any intimacy, he’d forgotten how good it felt. Or maybe he’d never actually felt this way with anyone. His entire body ached, emotionally and physically.

Taylor’s touch began to trail across his chest, then lower down his stomach; there she traced the thin line of hair that led to his thick, hard length. He watched as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, and he felt himself pulse against her tight grip. His breath hitched as he swelled in her palm, and his balls tightened to his body from her touch.

With a swift motion, he flipped them over, his body covering hers as she landed on her back. He looked into her eyes, seeing his own desire reflected back at him. His heart pounded in his chest as he settled between her thighs, feeling her wet heat against his length. She grabbed his upper arms, anchoring herself as he rolled his hips, his cock sliding against her slick folds, making her gasp. He reached between their bodies, taking himself in his hand, and lined his crown up to her opening. He guided his engorged head up and down her slit; her folds pulsed around his tip, causing his toes to curl with pleasure. His jaw tensed at the sensation, and he realized then that he didn’t have protection. They’d used a condom the first time they’d had sex and still somehow had Owen. This time, he didn’t even have that.

He stilled, and she gripped his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the shot,” she breathed.

A groan ripped from his chest. He hadn’t had a lot of sex in his life; besides Taylor, he’d been with three other people—a high school girlfriend, a college girlfriend, and a girlfriend in his twenties—but he’d never had any sex without protection. The thought of being inside of her without a latex barrier caused his cock to jump and throb heavily. She must have felt it because her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. He didn’t want her to feel like they had to do this just because they’d gone this far.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as his forehead rested against hers. “We can stop.”

Itmight kill me, he thought,but we can stop.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Hearing the desperation in her voice caused his balls to coil up tightly to his body once more. He feared that the second hepushed inside of her, the tight, velvety walls of her inner canal would set him off like a trip wire and he’d explode.

He needed to slow things down. Not the actual, physical pace; that was fine. He needed to reinforce the years of pent-up sexual frustration. It’s not that he’d gone the past six years without climaxing; he’d taken matters into his own hands. But jerking off was nothing compared to being with someone. It was a lonely act that was a means to an end. It was maintenance more than pleasure.

What he craved, what he missed, was feeling her body beneath him. It was the sensation of nails clawing up his back. It was the heat of breath against his neck as he drove into her.

The intimacy he craved wasn’t in the orgasm; it was in the touches, the sounds, the sensations, the movements, the words, the smells, and the tastes. Those were the things that he’d longed for. But not just with anyone. It had to be with someone who he loved. He’d cared about his girlfriends and loved them as people, but not with the kind of love he felt for Taylor, which was strange considering he’d been in relationships that lasted years with all of them.

With a measured pace, he pushed past the barrier of her opening and stilled, feeling the warmth and wetness between her legs as the seam of her sex spasmed around his engorged tip. He stilled, trying to give his body time to adjust to the pleasure he felt so he wouldn’t go over the edge too soon. When Taylor’s hips jerked up impatiently, he gripped her hip and held her in place. She let out a frustrated groan, and he answered her exasperation by slowly pressing inside of her until he filled her completely.

Her inner walls clenched rapidly around his shaft, and he began to move in and out of her, their bodies becoming one. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through him; every caress and touch only intensified the sensation. Time seemed tostand still as their bodies communicated in a language all their own.

He moved inside her with a deliberate patience, savoring the way her body drew him in and clung to him, as if she never wanted to let go. They found a rhythm together, hips rocking in perfect sync, every motion building—steady, insistent, somehow both gentle and wild. Taylor arched beneath him, her hands traveling up his back, to his shoulders, and tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. She gasped his name, a sound that made his chest ache and his pulse thunder in his chest.

He braced himself over her, his face hovering just above hers, so close he could feel the trembling exhale of her every breath. His eyes roamed her face, studying the rawness of her need, the open vulnerability she didn’t bother to hide. She traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, and the scar above his eyebrow, memorizing him in this moment: present, alive, all his walls down.

“You feel so good,” his voice broke on the words, low, almost a growl.

She pulled him down for a kiss, tongues tangling in a battle of desperate need. He responded by moving deeper, harder, carefully but unrelentingly: he wanted to fill every empty place inside her. The sounds that came from him were raw, unguarded, and desperate.

Caleb dipped his head, kissing her jaw, her throat, and her collarbone, savoring the salt of her skin. Her nails raked his back, and she shivered. He felt her inner thighs tremble against his hips. He shifted, angling his hips so he drove deeper with every thrust. His body instinctively gave everything he had to give—her pleasure was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. His fingertips dug into Taylor’s hips, doing his best to read her signals. Her body responded instantly, arching against him, her breath catching in ragged, unsteady bursts.

“Yes, don’t stop, please,” she whimpered, and he understood it was more than just physical, more than seeking release. It was a plea for connection, for something lasting and real.

---