My world grew exponentially smaller in the space of one day. My world was named Brooke Casterley, and she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen as we came together in an explosive melding of our bodies. As my heart pounded down from the orgasm, and I struggled to comprehend what’d just happened, I realized it had been much more than a melding of bodies for me. It had been the melding of my heart with hers. I could tell myself it wasn’t possible to feel any different after a session of really good sex, but I would be dead wrong. Because everything was different. Nothing was familiar when it came to Brooke. Each new thing we shared together felt to me as if I’d never done it before, and more importantly, as if I never wanted to do it again with anyone other than her—ever.
What could that possibly mean . . . unless I really was in love with her?
I pulled out of her carefully so we wouldn’t have a condom accident, and was rewarded with the sound of her muffled protest at me leaving. Another first. Wanting to reassure her that I would be right back was also something I’d never had the urge to do—before now. “Be right back, beautiful. Do you need anything?” I couldn’t resist tracing her lips with my finger.
She put her lips around the tip of my finger and sucked lightly. “Just you to come back and keep your promise,” she said, shyly looking up at me all soft and pleasured from her climax. And beautifully naked.
Hell yes, I knew exactly what promise that would be. My caveman brain still remembered the vow I’d made just after we left the shower. The one about me making her come all night long.
Yes, I was in total-without-a-fucking-doubt love with this girl, right here.
“I will. And I will.”
Only a moron would waste a lot of time in the bathroom cleaning the cum off his cock if his beautiful woman was waiting naked for him in the bed. So, no, I did not waste time. But I did pick her clothes up from the floor and fold them so she would see them when she came in here later. I collected up all of the spilled condom packets and put them back in the box, too. Then I took three out again and checked myself in the mirror. Yeah, that’s you wearing the shit-eating grin.
A shit-eating grin because Brooke wanted me keeping my promises, and like the Eagle Scout I am, I had every intention of keeping the very first oath on the list: a scout is trustworthy. Yes, why yes, I am trustworthy.
I fixed the lighting in the room before I got back into bed with her because I couldn’t bear not being able to at least see a little bit. I opened the blinds on the wall of windows so the city lights would illuminate my bedroom. I never did that because it was too much light for me to sleep comfortably, but sleep wasn’t really on my agenda at the moment. I needed some light so I could see Brooke as I made her come for me . . . all—night—long.
SHE really did have the most beautiful tits in the world. The most stunning pair I’d ever met, hands down. Their shape was like a peach, perfectly round with just the slightest upward tilt at the nipples. I’m talking Victoria’s Secret lingerie–model perfection, but all-natural just the way God had made her.
The show she was giving me right now was probably doing permanent damage to my corneas, but I didn’t care. If the last sight my eyes ever saw on this earth was her gorgeous tits bouncing in my face while she rode my cock, then I’d be the happiest goddamn blind man on the planet with that beautiful image to comfort me.
I held one soft breast in each hand and pinched the tips at the same time just to hear the sexy gasp of pleasure I knew she would make. She squeezed her inner muscles around my cock in response, and I knew I was going to fucking go over the edge again. But not until I took her along with me.
I got my fingers between us and worked her slippery nub until I felt another squeeze gripping tight around my cock. “Say my name when you come, baby, I want to hear it.”
Her eyes looked like liquid golden drops in the darkened room—so beautiful—wanton, wildly free as she reached the start of her climax.
“Caaaaa-leb.” It was a shouted whisper, if there can be such a thing. Not loud—because it was softly formed—but something I would have heard her say clearly from across a noisy room. Because she was saying it to me . . . in a moment of total intimacy and complete trust, as we reached the peak together. I pumped everything I had left in me into her, our eyes locked on to one another as we rode it out. There weren’t words to describe it.
She collapsed down on top of me, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. Mine was pounding, too. Our hearts just pounded into each other until things settled down and I could think. Thinking was hard, and my brain was exhausted. I wanted not to think, actually. But like the old saying goes, “don’t think of a pink elephant”—and then that’s exactly what your brain delivers up to you on a steaming plate. For me the pink elephant was the question of what she meant to me, and what I wanted from her. I don’t think I consciously knew, as only my subconscious was in the know there.