Page 48 of The Photo
My hand journeys south. She’s right, the video foreplay was unusually exciting, but having her beneath me, that’s the fucking bomb, right there. We teased the notion of sex for weeks, building the desire and hysteria to something so powerful that my heart rate skyrockets into the universe when my hands wander over the real-life fantasy.
She’s ready for me, and I haven’t even fingered her yet, hell, I haven’t even kissed her. I’ve been holding back from those pouty lips because once I go there, she will unequivocally own me.
I get to stroke her heat and glide the juices over my lips.
I get to indulge in her erotic flavor all night.
I get to drag my tongue over her erect nipples.
I get to enjoy her grabby hands weaving through my hair.
“We’ve had enough video play time, Noah. Please,” she pleads. “Give it to me. I brought plenty of condoms. Please, I’m so ready for this. I’ve been ready since I slid into your t-shirt earlier, and it felt like you were all over me.”
Rowan doesn’t need to beg, nor does she need to ask twice. I anchor my elbows at either side of her, my hard-on heavy to her pelvis. She angles her hips upwards, and the crown of my dick glides along her heat. The slick sensation is heightened this time. So sensitive. My back braces at the contact. Featherlight fingertips wrap my length, and she guides it to her entrance. This is it. This is my absolution.
In one thrust, we’re irrevocably connected. The downy hairs on my skin bolt upright. Every cell awakens with a new lease on life. All of my muscles become energized as I plunge into her, over and over. I’m aware of every single ridge within her. Those tense inner walls of hers clamp tightly, sucking me back inside when I pull back.
Her lithe body moves fluidly until her limbs stiffen and her lips part. As she prepares to orgasm, I cover her groans with my mouth. The vibrations of her needy moans set me on fire. Together, we are wild and hungry with teeth clashing, and urgency driving us to the end. She gasps when I rip my lips away and continue to piston my hips.
Rowan cries out my name with that sexy fucking accent of hers. My balls tighten and lift. Short nails bite into my ass, and I lose my shit. My spine goes rigid, while my skin flames. I pump everything I have inside of her.
“Omigod,” she hums when I roll off. “That was incredible.”
I’m exhausted. An arm drapes her waist, and I flop my face into the pillow.
“Promise me we’ll discuss the photos. I want to explain what happened, so you understand.” She nestles closer, right at home next to my side.
“You don’t need to sell shit.” I’m so tired. My voice sounds thick and croaky. “I’ll always look after you, baby.”
“I didn’t sell anything.” Her statement filters into the post sex bliss. I’m content and close to sleep. “All the truths tomorrow,” I mutter before flickering my heavy lids shut and inhaling her scent.
Twenty-One
I had the best dream in the world. Rowan was back in my bed. We kissed. We fucked. Did I use a condom? Uh—did I? She had a stash of golden foil packets. No idea. What a dream. Who cares? I’d fuck her bare back in my dreams and in the flesh, if she was still mine.
My mouth tastes weird and my head. Jesus fuck—who hit me over the head, and what did they use? A baseball bat—wait, a bat.
I fling out an arm and pat the mattress. Shit. It was a fucking dream. I’m alone, buck naked and my dick standing to attention like it’s waiting for her to roll into me.
I swivel my hips and stretch. When I inhale, I recognize the floral scent.Rowan? I push up on elbows and scan the room. Everything in place, nothing out of the ordinary. No panties. No luggage. No sign of her at all, except for the pillow. It’s dented. I stuff my nose in and—fuck. It wasn’t a dream.
Shewashere.
Her ankle. My stupid dumbass games. That epic sex release. The intense feeling of making love to her without a condom. Rowan blew my mind all over again.
“Rowan?” I call out and swing my legs off the bed.
The bathroom is empty. The living room, too. What the hell have I done? Why didn’t I force her to tell me how she hurt her ankle—instead of using sex as a distraction? It wasn’t like that. Or was it?
I tug my hair. This is the reason I don't drink booze. It makes me careless and idiotic. There’s no sign of her in my apartment. Only my hazy recollection of mind-blowing unprotected sex.
I sit on the couch, bury my face in my hands and growl in frustration. The front door slams and scratchy claws pelt the flooring. “Hey! How are you feeling this morning?”
All the blood rushes to my head when I bounce off the couch. “You’re here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be here, silly. It’s ‘all the truths’ day.” I notice her limp as she carries in two paper cups and a brown bag trapped under her armpit. Ralph paws at my knee. “I bumped into Joseph on my way back. I nipped out to grab us both a strong coffee.” She carefully moves the cups from side to side. “Joseph just got back from a stroll with Ralph and asked if you were home. Apparently, they’re going away this afternoon for a couple's retreat.” Rowan opens her arm like a wing, and the bag thuds as it lands. “Donuts!” She grins.
“I came inside you!” I blurt out when she hands me the coffee.
