Page 53 of Silent Count
She giggles, and it squeezes my cock, making my eyes roll back.
“I’m close, I promise. Now, fuck me.” She tilts her hips, rocking against me.
So, I do. I pull out, not all the way, then slam back into her. Then I lean in and take her lips in a wet kiss. We kiss until we need to catch our breath, but my mouth hovers over hers, our tongues still seeking one another’s. It’s most definitely the hottest moment of my life. I can feel sweat forming on my brow, but there’s no way in hell I’m stopping to wipe it off.
She pulls back and rests her forehead against mine. “I’m almost there. Harder.” She’s watching my dick move in and out of her. “Fuck, that’s so hot. You have the most perfect dick.”
“Fuck. Come, baby.” I pump faster, deeper. “I’m gonna come.”
She reaches between us, and I think she’s going to play with her clit with her fingers, but she spreads them on either side of my dick and pushes the heel of her hand onto her clit instead. It’s sensation overload for me, as I feel her inner walls contract around my dick, feel her fingers as I push in and out, and feel her rubbing against her clit. My balls tighten just as she starts to come.
“Bo! Oh my God, fuck yes.” Her head tilts back, and I suck her neck as I start to come. Her skin is damp and salty. And tastes divine.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me in closer, hugging me. I can feel her heart beating against mine. I rest my head against hers, and a calmness I’ve never felt rushes over me.
Yes, I’ve been attracted to her, and I’ve wanted to get to know her, but this connection I feel with her makes me know without a doubt, as I stand here with her in my arms, that this is where I want to be forever. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go. For anyone.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
CHELSEA
I can honestly saythat I have never in my life had sex like this. It’s definitely not the ideal location in terms of comfort, but, holy shit, it was hot. My heart rate is finally slowing down, and I lift my head from Bo’s shoulder. He pulls out and releases my legs, then moves his hands to my face, kissing me reverently.
The kiss starts to deepen again, but the timer on the oven buzzes, startling us.
He rests his forehead against mine. “We’d better get that before we burn the complex down, huh?” he says with a deep chuckle.
“Yeah, that would be bad, considering what we had to deal with last week. Can you pull that out of the oven while I go … clean up?” I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms.
“I can do that.” He lifts me by the waist and sets me on my feet.
My shorts, thong, and tank top are somewhere around here, but I don’t bother looking for them because I can feel Bo’s cum slipping out, which is equal parts hot and, well, sticky. I close thedoor to the bathroom, take care of business because no one likes a UTI, and wash my hands. When I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but smile. My hair is coming out of my lose ponytail, my cheeks and chest are flush, and there’s a faint bite mark on my neck.
I can hear him in the kitchen, so I dry my hands, then redo my ponytail quickly. When I open the door, the smell of our dinner permeates through the room. I’m not trying to brag or anything, but I’m a decent cook. I tried to pick something healthy this time since I know Bo has to watch what he eats.
The pan with our dinner on it is sitting on top of the oven, foil still covering it. Bo has his sweats back on, but no shirt, standing at the counter, where we just had sex, and he’s cleaning it. I mean … how cute is he?
He looks up and sees me walking toward him, still naked. “Goddamn you are gorgeous.”
He put my clothes on one of the stools at the bar, so I dress quickly. As I walk by him, I stop and lean up to kiss him. “You’re gorgeous too.” I nod to the counter. “Thanks for doing that.”
“Of course.” He tosses the paper towel in the garbage and washes his hands. The towel is hanging on the oven door that I’m standing in front of, so I scoot to the side so he can reach it. “It smells awesome.” His stomach grumbles.
“Hungry?” I say with a giggle.
“Yeah, between practice and”—he wraps his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder—“you, I’m starving.”
I like being in his arms. He makes me feel safe, calm, and not at all anxious.
“I’m a little hungry myself.” I reach into the cabinet in front of me and pull two plates from it.
“Can I do anything to help?” He kisses my shoulder and backs up so I can move to get the spatula from the cylinder.
“I think we’re good. Just tell me how much you want, and then we can sit at the table to eat.” I nod toward the table.
“You can load up my plate. I can eat all of this. Do you want something to drink?” He moves to the fridge and pulls it open. Like he’s comfortable being here. And I like it.
