Page 25 of Wrong Place, Wright Time
“Listen, I know that what I’ve asked of you is a lot. And if you don’t think you can keep doing this with me, I’ll understand.” I lay my hand back on his chest, and he moves his hand to cover mine right away.
“I don’t want this to end,” he says, turning his whole body back toward me until he’s holding himself on top of me while pushing my hands up over my head. “In fact, no matter what rules or restrictions you want to put on this, no matter what name you wanna call it, I’m in this one hundred percent, Isla. Nothing is going to change that.”
Relief floods through me at the intensity of his words, quickly getting replaced with desire when his cock presses against my entrance and pushes slowly into my depths, making me moan and gasp with longing, even though we literally only just finished doing this less than half an hour ago. I just can’t seem to get enough of him.
“Harder,” I cry, my body aching with a need for more of him. “Harder.”
He draws his hips back, driving in harder each time, my body shifting up his bed with each solid thrust. It feels so good, this slamming together of pelvises that seems to fill me so deeply I can feel his cock everywhere. Naturally, I want more of it.
“Harder!” I moan.
With an almighty thrust, he slams his hips into and sends my body directly into his wooden bedhead, my head hitting with such force that my body decides to respond by releasing some pressure at the other end.
That’s correct, ladies and gentlemen. I just farted during sex. And if that’s not embarrassing enough, I also came.What the actual hell?
Banks freezes, and my hands go to face to hide my mortification as I moan—both from mortification and the fact my orgasm is winding down. “Oh my god! I can’t believe I just did that!”
There’s a shaking sensation on the bed and when I peek through my fingers, Banks’s entire body is rocking with laughter. And since his cock is still buried in me, it feels pretty good.
“This is not the time to be laughing, Banks!”
“Really?” he asks, shifting his balance to wipe a tear from his face. “Because if this isn’t one of those times, I don’t know what is.”
“Oh, it’s fine for you! You’re not the one who just farted and came at the same time.”
He bursts into a fresh bout of laughter, rolling off me and landing on his back, clutching his stomach because he’s laughing so hard.
“You are so mean,” I say, laughing a little myself now. “I am never going to eat before sex again.”
“Oh god no,” he says, managing to get a handle on himself so he can give me a somewhat serious look. “That would risk losing those curves of yours and thenIwould die of sadness. Plus, seeing you lose control in any way is hot as fuck for me.”
“You think it’s hot that I farted and came at the same time?” Forgive me if I don’t believe him.
“Hell yeah,” he says, catching me about the waist then hauling me on top of him. I sit back so I’m straddling him, and the fact he’s still hard gets me feeling all warm again, toning down my embarrassment level. “You, my beautiful bedfellow and best friend, are what many would call ‘highly strung’. You like to be in control during any given situation and don’t tend to step outside your comfort zone without being pressed. So yes, seeing you lose a little of that control is averyattractive thing for me to witness. Shows me you’re human.”
Placing both of my hands over his pecs, I lean over him and smile. “Did you just call me your best friend?”
He tilts he said to the side a little and bounces a shoulder. “I did. Just don’t tell Ronin I said that, he’ll feel rather put out and replaced.”
“You can have more than one best friend.”
“You can.”
“And you see me as one of yours?”
“Between you and me, I see you as top of the list. I don’t hobby or fuck anyone else but you.”
I don’t know what it is about that sentence, but something inside me gets all warm and gooey, and I have to fight not to let my eyes fill with tears. So I lean in and kiss him instead, long, deep and slow before nudging my nose alongside his and whispering, “You’re my number one best friend too.”
Banks
“Don’t tell Ash, but I think I like Isla even better than I like him. And that’s saying a lot,” Darren says, twisting the cork out of a bottle of wine in his kitchen while I help refill the snack bowls. Theo and Isla are both in the living room, laughing at how bad we all are at Pictionary.
“I like her a lot too,” I say, keeping my voice low because, as always, I’m careful not to say too much and spook her. Despite the fact we’ve been together for close to six months now, doing everything a normal couple would do, she still goes rigid the moment I mention anything about a future together. I’ve never had a serious relationship in my life, but this sure feels as close to one as a person can get without that added commitment, and even though I love every moment I spend with her, I can’t help but crave for more. I don’t know if it’s some carnal need that goes back to our caveman roots, but there’s something inside me that wants to own her completely. I want her to have my name and bear my children. The longer this relationship goes on, the more I want that. It’s an urge I can’t seem to shake.
“But?” Darren says, his artfully drawn brows raised as he studies my expression.
“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to brush it off. “Honestly, everything is great. She’s great. And I'm happy.”
