Page 12 of Indiana Idealist
When he remains motionless for a long moment, I’m in awe of how good it feels to have him fully seated inside me.
He uses his hands to cup both sides of my face as he gazes intently down at me with desire and adoration shining bright in his eyes. Never in my entire life have I felt so cherished. I don’t want this blissful moment to ever end, yet at the same time, the fire in my belly is building once more and demanding that we see this through to the end.
Unable to hold back any longer, I wiggle beneath him.
Leo beams down at me. After pressing a sweet, soft kiss to my lips, he murmurs, “So impatient.”
His actions don’t match his words, though, because he begins swiveling his hips and sliding ever so slowly in and out of me.
My entire body aches with the desperate need for him. Deciding that we can take it slow and sweet next time, I roll over on top of him.
Arching my back, I begin to circle my hips. Soon, I am lost in the mindless pleasure of riding him.
It barely registers in my mind when he reaches out and begins rubbing his rough thumb over my swollen clit. My brain is too far gone to focus on anything but the swirling sensations taking over my entire body from my core to my fingertips. I gyrate as he strokes me into an absolute frenzy.
“I love watching you bounce over me and feeling your hot pussy on me.” His naughty, panted words send me over the edge.
I buck and pulse––tightening around him––as starbursts fill my vision and warm, liquid pleasure surges through my system.
His hips ram up to meet me stroke for stroke.
My electrified body jolts with erratic movements as I wonder if it is possible to actually die from too much pleasure.
“Yes, Cami!” he yells as he thrusts up into me.
I ride him through the surging wave, then flop down onto his damp chest.
Tiny, lingering quivers are still tingling along my nerve endings when I close my eyes. For the first time in longer than I can remember, sleep is calling me.
14
LEO
The woman who claims to rarely sleep finally begins to rouse when the sun slashes bright streaks of brilliant light into her bedroom. She sighs and stretches––confident and completely unconcerned about her nakedness.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, before pressing her lips to the side of my neck.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I respond, grinning down at her.
She pulls back to look into my eyes. “I haven’t slept that well in a long time. Did you sleep okay?”
“Part of me did,” I answer cryptically.
At her curious look, I expand, “The arm that was underneath you was asleep for a good part of the night.”
Camille’s expression is full of concern when she says, “Oh, no. Why didn’t you move out from under me or say something?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you, since I know it’s a rare thing for you to get in some good rest.” Her features are still drawn downward, so I add, “Besides it wasn’t unpleasant because I got to be so close to you.”
“It wasn’t unpleasant, huh? That’s how you would describe our night together?” She tries to sound miffed, but I can tell by the smile turning up the corners of her mouth that she isn’t truly angry.
Needing to make sure she understands, I say, “No, I would describe our night as being fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Same,” she readily agrees. We rest comfortably together for a long moment before she says, “You know, I was out of my mind with pleasure, but I could swear that you started calling me Cami.”
“I did. Is that okay?” I ask, hoping that she’ll like the cute nickname as much as I do.
She thinks it over for a moment before answering, “Normally, I hate it when people try to shorten my name, but since it’s you, I think I kind of like it.”
