Page 63 of All I Want Is Love
“Not really, but old habits die hard.”
“Talking about hard—" Soren starts.
“Oh my god, you did not just say that!?” I smack his shoulder.
Soren just laughs. He has a handsome face, so handsome I sometimes wonder why he is interested in plain old me. When he laughs, he gets the cutest dimples. I get up, pushing him backwards until he is forced to sit down on a chair before I settle on his lap, my legs straddling him.
Soren grins. “I thought my joke was too silly?”
“Your joke, yes, but you are still hot.”
Soren’s hands roam over my back before slipping under my shirt. His fingers are cold, sending a shiver down my spine. I make sure to remove his glasses and put them on the small table next to us.
A smirk curls Soren’s lips. “Whenever you do that, it’s very promising.”
In reply, I reach over and open the first drawer of the small chest next to us. Soren eyes me curiously, his smile growing when he notices the condoms in my hand. “Drop the condoms,” he says, shifting slightly and pulling something out of his pocket.
“You got the results?”
“Yes, the doctor called me in the afternoon.” He hands me two envelopes. One is still closed and has my name on it. I rip it open, skim through its contents and smile. “Clean.”
“Same,” he grins. “So, how was that about getting tested and fucking you raw?” A smirk curls his lips. “You do know the difference between a snowman and a snow woman, don’t you?”
The grin on his face makes me pause, furrowing my brows. “Is this one of your gotcha-jokes?” I tease.
“Snowballs,” he answers without reacting to my comment.
I can’t help it. The joke is so silly, probably the least funny one he has told me so far, but somehow it makes me double over, laughing. I don’t realize how I squeeze my legs around him until Soren grabs me by my waist.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I am not going to last if you do that.”
“Soren—" I brush over his neck and through his hair, before grabbing it and tugging his head back. His eyes look at me, so dark and full of lust, it makes my body shiver. “I want to ask you something.”
“Tell me,” Soren urges.
“Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants.”
For a moment, he just stares at me, flabbergasted, before I can see realization settling in, and he breaks into a grin.
“Took a while, huh?” I grin. “What? You thought you were the only one who could tell silly jokes? I know some of them, too. Looked them up, and now have a whole list of them saved on my phone.”
“You“—Soren’s hand slips into my pants, groping my ass—“were obviously made for me.”
I really want to believe that. I want to believe that finally I have met the one. There is a hint of anxiety I feel whenever I allow myself to realize how much I actually fell for Soren. It’s the same old anxiety I have always known, namely that something I like will be taken away from me just because I am happy with it, just because I like it.
I take Soren’s face between my hands.
But I won’t easily let go of Soren.
I get up on my knees so that Soren can push down my pants while I unbutton his jeans. “Wait a moment, babe,” he says, raising his hips and helping me pull his pants down. His cocksprings free, and I don’t waste any more time, immediately wrapping my fingers around his shaft.
“Lube’s in the first drawer as well,” I say.
“At your command.” Soren stretches and angles for the item. He finds it easily without having to get up. Benefits of having a man with long limbs! I lean my forehead against his shoulder, closing my eyes while my ears pick up what’s going on around me. I can hear the cap of a bottle opening, and some rustling before two slick fingers move over my crack.
It’s not even been two days since our last time. I am still pretty loose, and Soren’s finger slips in easily. He adds another one immediately, making me rock against his fingers. “I am ready,” I pant.
Soren’s eyes are pinned to me, like he is taking all of me in at once. “Are you sure?”
