Page 119 of Road Trip to Forever
I’ll be ready when they do. I’ll welcome them with open arms and an open heart, giving them back to him freely and wholeheartedly.
I nod, pulled back to the present with a gradual swell of emotion behind the bob of my head. I rest my hands on his chest and I can feel his heart beating under my palms, a staccato melody I’ve memorized from the times we’ve been in bed, hearing nothing except the sounds of our breaths as we drifted toward unconsciousness, at peace and utterly content in the arms of the other.
“Fuck me, Patrick,” I whisper into his ear. “Make me yours.”
It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever said to someone.
I hear his shaky exhale as he runs his hands up my backside. He squeezes around the curve of my ass and the shape of my hips, fingers digging into my skin. I hope he leaves a mark so I can remember tonight, fondly looking back on it tomorrow and the day after.
I want to see the handprints left behind by the man I love, caught up in the throes of passion where he loses all semblance of control simply because I drive him wild. The man made of careful calculations and restraint is withering away in front of me, and I’ve never felt so powerful.
“Lola,” he mumbles, his voice thick with need. “I want you so bad.”
“So have me,” I say.
Patrick’s grip on me tightens, a possessive hold on my body I never want to break free from. His nose brushes against my chin and I lift my neck to find him watching me rapturously, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a pink that matches my favorite time of day: sunset, when the heat cools and the clouds break.
There’s adoration in his gaze, desire and heat, longing and so much patience, years of waiting and waiting andwaitingculminating to this exact moment.
He kisses my jaw and the inch of skin below my ear. He reaches his hand between us and rubs his thumb over my clit, enough of a tease for me to arch my back and squeeze my eyes shut, already chasing that wonderful high for the second time tonight. My body awakens under his touch, a million stars in the night sky.
“No,” Patrick says softly, his hand falling to the inside of my thigh. He pinches the skin there and my eyes fly open with the fleeting burst of pain. He rubs over the spot right away, soothing me. “I want to see you when I sink into you for the first time, Lola. I want to see every second of you coming apart for me.”
I flush hot at his words knowing how many times he’s already made me come in the span of a few short days. He’s an expert on me now, saying and doing the exact right things that tip me over the edge every single time. It’s what I’ve always wanted with someone between the sheets.
It boils down to compatibility, the piece of the puzzle I’ve always been lacking with a partner. I might have had to fake a few orgasms, but it’s never beenbad.Just… okay. Not ripping-off-clothes intensity or being comfortable enough to say what I like. What I want. Letting myself express pleasure vocally and proudly.
I feelsafewith Patrick, allowed to move without embarrassment and react without expectations. I can take my time and ease into it, having a second chance if I need it. That’s how I know I have the right person underneath me right now, because he loves me for exactly who I am.
Our gazes lock as I lower myself onto his length. We hiss in unison, sounds of pleasure filling the room and the small sliver of space between our bodies.
“More,” I say, the word catching in the back of my throat. I think I might be dying, too much stimulation all at once. “More, Patrick. All of it.”
He lifts his hips—maybe I lower mine, I’m not entirely sure who initiates what—and pushes another inch inside of me. He groans into my shoulder, teeth gently biting around the tendons at the base of my neck. I see bursts of color and sparks of light as he thrusts inside me until I’m fully seated on him, taking a second to breathe and get used to the feel of him stretching me and consuming me.
“God,” I whisper, feeling drunk and high with lust. “That feels so good.”
“It’s never been this good,” Patrick says. “Never.” His nails sink into my skin, heightening the heat and intensity of the moment to a deadly inferno. “Fuck, Lola. You’re incredible.”
I relax, getting used to the sensation of being so full. Of being ravenous for him, a void of unsated hunger only he can fill. My thighs open wider and I push up, nearly sliding his length out of me before lowering myself again. I get deeper this time and our moans sync, long and low and echoing off the walls.
“What do you like?” I ask. I lean forward, canting my body weight toward him and brushing my lips against his forehead. “What makes you feel good? Fast? Slow? What makes Patrick Walker out of his mind?”
“You,” Patrick pants. “You, Lola.”
He looks possessed and tortured, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek and his head dropping back against the stack of pillows. I watch his gaze track over my body, staring at my chest then dropping to where we’re joined, one hand sliding away from my legs to pinch my nipple.
It’s sweet and sexy at the same time. Hot and heavy while being carefree and light. Patrick thrusts. I roll my hips. He pulls my hair and I bite his earlobe, earning me a noise I’ve only dreamed about.
There are whispered words and quiet chuckles. Exploration and learning with soft kisses and fingernail scratches. I’m convinced the center of the universe can be pinpointed to our room, two people showing their love for each other with hands and mouths and soft encouragement
When I get too eager and slide off of him entirely, instead of drawing attention to my mistake, Patrick takes the opportunity to flip us, my back on the mattress and him towering above me.
He holds his cock in his hand and teases along my entrance. He licks his lips and nudges my knees apart. “Pretty,” he murmurs, reaching out and resting his palm against my throat, testing me. “I want to hear you beg for it.”
I squirm on the once-cool sheets, kicking off the blanket as heat rises up my chest. “Please,” I whisper.
“You can do better than that,” he says. His fingers lightly squeeze around my neck, the faintest bit of pressure, and when I nod my assent, they tighten further. “Beg for me, Lola.”
