With a grunt he lowered his head, leaning to lick at the hollow of my throat. The ceiling blurred and I closed my eyes, lost to the sensation of his mouth and teeth, the scrape of his chin, the pressure where his fingers worked to make room for himself inside my body.
I gasped, arching my spine against the bed and dragging my nails down his shoulder and across his back, hard, but not too hard. Not sure if he was ready yet. Will liked for it to hurt sometimes, asked for it. It was that thing that pushed him over the edge when he was so close he couldn’t catch his breath or think or even ask for what he wanted. He only knew he wanted more.
Will must have seen the question in my eyes because he swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Make it hurt,” he said.
I twisted my fingers in his hair, desperate and deep and just rough enough that his hips shot forward in surprise.
I rolled Will to his back and lifted my leg to straddle his hips. In the soft light I registered the surprise on his face and the way he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip when I reached up and unfastened my bra.
Cool air spilled across my breasts and my nipples hardened. Will freed himself of his pants and maneuvered my panties down and off my body. His skin was warm beneath me, his thighs firm and covered in soft hair. His hard cock rested against his stomach.
I pushed up onto my knees and positioned him where I wanted, smoothing him against me, teasing him.
“Do you want this?” I asked.
He nodded against the pillow, thumbs pressed into my hips, fingers gripping my ass. I lowered myself
slowly
slowly
until he was fully inside.
Will groaned helplessly, thrusting up into me while I moved over him. His hands reached to cup my breasts and lifted, squeezed them together before he sat up and took a nipple into his mouth.
“Will.”
He moaned around me, sucking harder before releasing it, his tongue drawing circles around the tip. He was so deep, and all I could think about or feel or hear was him. His stomach was slick with sweat where it moved against mine, his thighs firm against my ass. His fingers where he held me down and lifted me up slipped as he held me tighter, tried to move us faster.
With a groan, he flipped us over, throwing me to my back, his head down and hair fallen over his forehead. He watched where he moved inside of me, in and out. Harder. Faster.
An eternity, but never long enough.
“Fuck, Plum,” he said, kissing me until it was too much and my mouth was practically raw. With one hand he lifted my leg and pushed it to my chest.
“Jesus fuck,” he said, pistoning his hips faster now, each thrust pushing against something inside me that had me seeing stars.
I reached up, fingers grappling for the headboard, needing something to hold on to. Each snap of his hips pushed me further up the mattress and deeper inside that place in my head where static roared and the growing tension inside my lower belly—the friction and heat between my legs—became impossible to ignore.
“Will,” I breathed, gasping against his open mouth. I was going to come and I needed to come with him, feel him coming inside me and then again and again, on my breasts and my stomach, my lips.
Will reached for the edge of the mattress and pushed my leg farther into my chest and that was it. Heat exploded between my legs and ricocheted through every part of me. My toes curled, and I was coming so hard I couldn’t cry out or even say his name. He rocked into me one last time, so deep it took the breath from my lungs and I could feel him, muscles tense as he came inside me.
Will fell back to the bed and pulled me with him, cradling me into his side. “Holy shit.”
I blinked up at the ceiling, waiting for my breathing to return to normal. My bones were rubber; air cooled my fevered skin. I looked over to Will before reaching for the clock on the side of the bed. Six hours, twenty-two minutes to go. Not bad.
Sitting up, I filled two glasses from a bottle of chilled water on the bedside table, emptied mine in a single long draft, and climbed up onto Will’s lap.
His eyes moved down my naked body before he took the other glass from my hand. I watched him drink, marveling at his throat as he swallowed, his bare chest, his messy hair. This body? Was mine. Once he’d finished, I took the empty glass and pushed him back down to the pillows.
“Now,” I said, raising a single brow, “about that list . . .”
Three
Will
“Are you sure you don’t mind postponing the honeymoon?” On the couch at my side, Hanna turned her face up to me, squinting in the late-afternoon sun that streamed through our living room window. “Are you worried it will feel sort of . . . anticlimactic?”
A wild wedding, a sleepless wedding night, another interview checked off the list, and there we were: one week later, already back in our apartment, back in our day-to-day life.