Page 36 of More With You

“What?” My eyes widen in shock, but his twinkling eyes let me know there’s mischief in the air.

“I got one every time I checked my phone and there wasn’t a message from you. Self-inflicted, of course,” he explains, laughing huskily. “I’m not sure if a kiss is going to heal them all.”

I tug his t-shirt up to his chest, but his tanned skin is as smooth and flawless as I remember. “You’re not bruised.”

“Inside.” He covers my hand, which rests on his heart.

I give him a playful smack. “I thought you were actually hurt!”

“My mistake.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Well, I should still be thorough, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m not stopping you,” he replies, our roles reversed.

Beaming from ear to ear, I wrestle his t-shirt up over his head and throw it to the side. We sway back together, like the reeds where the heron is probably still hunting, his hands tracing now-familiar paths across my bare skin while my fingertips fumble with the tie of his board shorts. It’s not long before he’s stepping out of them and kicking them across the hardwood floor.

“No bruises so far,” I murmur, just as his hand slips between my thighs. He knows what he’s doing. My god, he knows what he’s doing. Slow strums, playing upon me like he’s a guitar maestro and I’m his most beloved instrument.

Arms looped around his neck, I catch his mouth with mine, kissing him as if this is our last night together. My rough breaths mingle with his, while his lips catch my desperate sighs and moans. Every cell in my body is dancing, jiggling me to a higher plane of existence, where there’s nothing but us and this. It’s the closest thing to magic I’ve ever experienced.

But he’s nowhere close to being done, his thumb taking over for his fingers. My muscles seize, my fingernails digging into Ben’s broad shoulders as he offers a vision of what’s to come. A cry slips from my mouth, my thoughts already racing forward to that incredible premonition. The measured back and forth isn’t quite the same as feeling him inside me, but it’s the delicious appetizer, paired with the heady pressure of his thumb circling exactly where I want it to.

“Oh my god,” I breathe against his neck, burying my face into his shoulder.

He kisses my head back up, urging me to gaze into his eyes. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like that.” With a whole thunderstorm of ecstasy sparking bolts inside me, it’s pretty much the only thing I can say.

He bends to kiss me again, walking me back toward the bed. As my knees hit the edge, I sink onto the soft mattress and shuffle myself backward, pulling him with me. Our lips never leaving one another’s, his fingers continuing their expert attention, I grab the waistband of his boxer-briefs and wrestle them down his toned thighs.

We’re laughing against each other’s lips as the underwear reaches his knees. That part is never as sexy as they make it look in movies, but the real deal, complete with the laughter and the awkward moments and the murmured whispers, will always be better than any hazily lit, fake love scene.

“Give me a minute,” he says, twisting off to the side to get rid of the mood lighteners. He bends further down, snatching up his board shorts. I don’t understand why until I hear the crinkle of a packet. I’m immediately grateful because my mind was in a million other places, forgetting that important part.

That done, he’s straight back into my arms and between my thighs, kissing me with a half-smile on his lips. I can’t help laughing, hugging him closer to me as his hips roll against me, teasing me and turning my laughter into a stifled gasp. One push, and he would’ve been inside me, but he draws back again, building the tension.

Just when I think I’m going to have to grab him and guide him into me, I feel that intense pressure again. The tease of him, on the edge between euphoria and frustration. I think he’s going to pull back again, but then I feel the forward rock of his hips, shattering the tension. My hips rise to meet him, my back arching up off the bed, desperate to feel all of him. I can’t just have a taste.

“Ben…” I cry out, raking at his taut back as he inches inside me. He’s doing it deliberately, but whether it’s for my pleasure, my comfort, or to madden me, I’m not sure.

I wrap my legs around him as we flow into wave after wave of rolling hips, gasps, moans, and sharp breaths. I feel every stroke, powerful and measured. I’m sure he could lose control if he wanted to, but there’s purpose in his movement. He wants me to be the center of attention.

He proves it when his hand slips between us: his fingertips resuming their expert strum. It’s the missing piece to the pleasure puzzle, morphing me into a writhing, panting vessel of euphoria. I’m already trembling as the pressure gauge fires up inside me, building to what I know is going to be an earth-shattering end. There’s no part of me that doesn’t feel the pulse and thrum of sheer ecstasy. I am ecstasy, right now.

“Fuck… oh fuck, Ben… Ben!” It hits me like a tidal wave, surging from the epicenter. It crashes up into my chest and down my thighs, making them shake violently. My arms wrap tighter around him, as though the vibrations might spill into him, while I ride that wave to the ebbing, pulsating conclusion.

It’s not just my arms that wrap tighter around him. Every muscle is tensed against the seismic rush, spurring him on to make the electric pulse last. He quickens his pace, no longer holding back. I tighten my grip, in every possible way, willing him to feel what I’m feeling.

“Summer,” he gasps. “My Summer.”

My wish came true. I feel him letting go, while a deep groan rumbles from his throat. I kiss the side of his neck to catch the last tremor of his pleasure, as a fresh flurry of sparks erupt in my stomach, ignited by the last pulsing breath of him inside me.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, rolling onto his side and pulling me with him. He wraps me up in his embrace, fluttering lazy kisses all over my face before nuzzling into my hair. “Everything about you… Amazing.” One hand snakes over the rise of my hip and grabs the nearby blanket, drawing it over my lower half, while he takes care of the upper half, warming me with his body.

I peer up. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Just you,” he mumbles, kissing my forehead. “My Summer. My sweet, sweet Summer.”

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