Page 55 of Finding Home
“I don’t want this to be just sex. I can’t have it be just sex.” I gnaw my lip, readying myself for my next confession. “I have too many feelings already involved for this to be just sex.”
“Good,” he says, and silence fills the room.
I wait, expecting him to say more, but he doesn’t.
I look up at him. “Good, that’s all you’re going to say?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I wouldn’t have slept with you tonight if I wasn’t ready for more. I may not be great at it in the beginning, so I’m gonna need you to give me some grace. But you’re already too ingrained in both my and Lila’s life for this to just be sex.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and leans down to kiss me.
This kiss isn’t like the one in Incahoots. It’s slow and intimate. His lips brush over mine before he deepens the kiss. He licks at my lips, and I open to him. My hand finds his hair, and I fist it, causing him to moan into my mouth, and I devour the sound. The kiss turns from soft and intimate to needy and desperate.
I push at his shoulder, and he rolls onto his back as I move to straddle him. His hands find my hips as I grind myself on him. He hardens beneath me and slips just between my folds, the head of his cock grazing my clit.
“Fuck,” I mumble into his mouth, and he encourages me to grind harder against him.
I break the kiss. “Condom,” I pant. I spot the box on the nightstand and reach inside grabbing a few, scattering them on the bed, keeping one to open and roll it down his cock. I lift up and position him at my entrance before slowly sinking down. He stretches me in a way I’ve never experienced before.
He grips my hips tightly, and I stare down at him as I adjust to him filling me so well.
“You look so fucking perfect,”he says.
I roll my hips, and he groans.
I place my hands on his chest and slowly lift myself until I feel just the tip of his cock inside me and then fall back down, and we moan in unison. He feels so fucking good. I take my time fucking myself on him, and he lets me. He lets me use him like my own personal sex toy, and it’s a fucking turn on. I kiss him as I grind my clit against his pubic bone, and he grabs a handful of my hair, creating just enough tension to bring pleasure with it.
My orgasm builds slowly, but I feel it in every part of me. From my toes up to my shoulders, my body tightens, and I know I’m about to detonate. Everett can tell, too, because he breaks the kiss and says, “I want to look at you as you come for me.”
I only manage to keep my eyes open for a few seconds before I’m squeezing them shut, the orgasm tearing through me. I collapse on his chest as I hear the last of his orgasm subside, and he kisses my forehead. I smile against him and let out a content sigh.
He gently slides me off him before heading to the washroom where I hear the sink run before he returns with a warm washcloth and cleans me before tucking me back into bed. He joins me, and I curl into his side, realizing there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here in this bed with Everett.
THIRTY
EVERETT
Having Chloe curled into my side is not how I thought I’d be waking up this morning, but now that she’s here, the thought of waking up alone leaves a hole in my stomach. She looks so peaceful as she sleeps; it adds an innocence to her normal beauty that I’m glad I get to witness.
The sun is coming up and trickles in through the crack in the curtains, just barely dancing over her skin. I gently trail my finger over the places the sun touches, somehow feeling jealous of the way it’s touching her skin. She curls into me more, and I can’t help my grin.
I kiss the top of her head before sliding out of bed and making my way downstairs. I put on a pot of coffee and whip up some food. As I take the last piece of french toast off the stove, Chloe pads into the kitchen in an oversize T-shirt that readsVancouver Memorial.
She smiles softly at me, but I’m scowling at her. She stops in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, worry coating her voice.
“You need to change,” I growl.
She looks down at herself and raises a brow. “Why? It’s just a shirt.”
“It’s a man’s shirt.”
She bites her lip, humour filling her expression. “It’s my brother’s shirt.”
I shake my head and stalk towards her, my hand finding her jaw, gripping it. “I don’t give a fuck what man that shirt belongs to. Like I said yesterday, you’re mine. No other man’s shirt will deign to touch your skin. You want an oversize T-shirt, there’s an entire dresser of them upstairs for you to raid. You want a hoodie, grab one of mine.”
My hands find the hem of the shirt, and I slowly drag it up her body.
“Only my shirts will touch this perfect skin.” I pull the shirt over her head, dropping it on the floor. My hands roam her now exposed skin, cupping her breasts, my thumbs rolling her nipples, and she inhales sharply, still holding eye contact with me.
