“Yes.”
Good. Licking my fingers to get the dumpling grease off, I step closer. “Sorry I couldn’t give you pancakes at midnight.”
I run my hands up her soft thighs. One tug and she’s at the edge of the counter. Fi’s eyes narrow, her plump lips curling in a sly smile.
I smile back, not saying a word but letting her know she’s mine all the same. The tip of my cock brushes her entrance. She’s slick and warm, and holds all my attention.
A light shiver runs over her body. “Dumplings are a pretty good alternative.”
“Mmm.” I nudge her just slightly, taking hold of her hips to keep her steady. “Dumplings and deep-dicking.”
She laughs at that. “Deep-dick—Oh!”
I thrust without warning.
“Oh!” Fi gasps again, her back arching, as I push my way deeper inside. Her tits lift like an offering. Well, then… I swoop forward and capture one rosy tip with my mouth.
“Oh, shit,” she whispers, her brows furrowed tight and her mouth open on a hot pant. “Oh, shit, Ethan.”
I don’t stop but pull her farther onto my dick, loving how she whimpers and wiggles as she struggles to accommodate me but clearly wants every inch I can give her.
It’s a snug fit, the warm, wet clasp of her squeezing me so hard I feel it in my balls and down my thighs.
When I bottom out, I pause because it’s just too good. But Fi is grasping my hair, shoving her tit in my mouth like she’ll die if I don’t suck harder, and writhing as if she needs more.
And I can’t hold back. We both groan as I work her in an easy, undulating rhythm that has no pause, because it’s heaven fucking Fi. Pure, perfect heaven. Every thrust I take grows a little harder, goes a little deeper, my piercing sliding over that spot within her that has her gasping a reedy “ah!” each time.
I mouth her nipple, my tongue sliding over it. Heat licks up my thighs and down my spine. I groan, slamming into her, again and again. And she loves it, her hands gripping my shoulders, her legs wrapping tight around my waist as she slumps against the marble countertop.
“Ethan. Ethan.” It’s a weak, needy cry.
I bend over her, practically crawling onto the counter with her, pumping with blind lust now. She’s utterly beautiful spread out before me, her expression slack with pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” she says.
I won’t. I can’t.
This. This is what I want, what I need, this connection with Fiona in whatever variation I can get for as long as I can.
She comes on a sob, and it breaks me. How am I going to let her go again? My orgasm takes my breath, my voice. I empty myself into her, giving her everything I have, and it won’t be enough to keep her here.
It’s never enough.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fiona
Airport again. Why do they all smell the same? Dex walks me to the TSA line, and I feel like I’m going to my execution. My entire body wants to resist moving forward. Maybe Dex does too because he doesn’t try to hurry me along, even though my sluggish pace causes him to take unnaturally short steps.
When we get within sight of the line, his fingertips press my lower back, as if he’s entertaining ideas of grabbing hold and pulling me away. I wouldn’t object.
With a soft sort of grunt, he turns me into his embrace. I get a glimpse of his eyes, serious and pained. His warm hands cradle my cheeks, and then he’s kissing me.
It’s deep, desperate, and savoring, as if he’s putting his entire heart into each touch and taste, as if he’s trying to memorize every second. And I’m lost. Utterly lost.