Squeezing her ass, I smirked. “Fuck yourself on me. Grind until you get off.”
In frustration, she wriggled as much as she could. My weight was holding her down; only her clit was rubbing me with how I'd angled myself. “I can't!” she said, her brow furrowing. “Just fuck me, don't play any games.”
“I love games, though.” When she went to push me away, I held her tighter. She was pinned, my cock stretching her out while her clit could only get any contact if she gyrated with all her might.
Breathing faster, she realized I was serious.
Swallowing, she closed her eyes and started to rock. It was barely an inch, allowing her to just graze her twitching clit on my flat stomach. Her cunt rippled, strangling me as it heated up in desperation.
There's nothing sexier than a woman who'll do anything to come.
“Good,” I whispered, licking her firm nipples. Her moan sent tremors to my core. At this rate, she was going to get me off before she reached the peak herself. But I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
Licking my fingers, I winked at her. Reaching behind us, I trailed a fingertip along her inner thigh. At the cleft of her ass, I rubbed her asshole—every muscle in her body locked up.
“Oh fuck,” she whimpered. I was amazed she didn't question what I was doing. She must have been too turned on to care, her need to orgasm too great.
Slippery heat embraced my painfully erect cock. Alexis moaned, turning her face away from me. I could feel the electric current in her *, it traveled through and into my flexing shaft. She was right on the edge, so close to coming.
Burying my finger deep in her ass, I bent my spine into a perfect C and sat up. Her * milked me, her asshole thrumming on my knuckle. Together we came, our cells waking with the hyper-awareness of orgasm.
Even when I was done filling her with my seed, she still writhed. And I still shivered with the pressure of release. I'd never felt anything so good, the pleasure rolling on to my toes and beyond.
Pulling my hand from her, I breathed out sharply. “What the hell was that?” I asked out loud.
There were stars in her eyes, the pink of roses on her lips. If you could bottle contentment and joy, drink it till you drowned, you still wouldn't have matched the emotion on her face.
Alexis was in love.
This was love.
I'd known it—or I'd thought I had. Until just then, I'd never actually experienced the extent of our compassion. This desire for each other, it might just kill us. And would that even be a tragedy?
She pulled me to her, kissing me gently. “I love you, do you know that?”
I smiled around her lips. “You've said it before.”
“But do you know.”
I almost said, “Yes.” Then I stopped, weighing my words. “You really mean it. Even after what I've done to you, you're able to love me?”
Her hand trailed down the back of my neck. “I didn't realize I was living a half-life until you showed up. I don't know anyone I could ever love except for you.”
The support of our bodies paled next to what our souls could offer. We stayed like that on my couch, long after the party had ended... but I wanted forever.
Alexis broke the silence; I'd thought she'd fallen asleep. “I want to ask you something, and you have to answer it.”
“I can't hear the question first?” She looked me in the eye, pure seriousness. “Alright. Ask me.”
Trailing her palm down my chest, she lowered her voice. “Why did you rob Old Stone bank? You mentioned... revenge.”
She was lying on top of my heart, she could feel it drumming. “It's not something you want to hear.”
“Of course I do. Anything that let's me understand you better is worth knowing.”
Tracing the line of her cheek, I hesitated. “It's a sad story, and I'm terrified of making you sad ever again.”
Light entered her eyes, turning the green color into a summer pond. I could see to the bottom, her emotions swimming like fish. Leaning up, she met my lips with a tender kiss. “If I cry, you'll just have to hold me. Is that so bad?”
Cradling her against me, I luxuriated in her skin on mine. “No. Not at all.”
It was a story I'd never told another soul.
I had never planned to.
Lying there under the weight of the most perfect woman in the world, I tore back the layers of my past.
And I told her everything.
“How long does he have to live?”
I asked the question, but the answer couldn't get through the cotton in my brain. Cancer. How could my younger brother have cancer? He was too young, too healthy, too...
Too innocent.
“Mr. Silverwell? Mr. Silverwell.” I was only nineteen, I wasn't used to being called a Mr. Anything. “Keswick.” The doctor said my name sharply, pulling me from my funk. When he saw I was listening, he sighed. “I know this is hard. But, if he does the treatment exactly as planned, he might live longer than anyone could hope for.”
He was wrong, of course.