Page 95 of One More Chapter
“Anthony,” I pant. “If you don’t start moving faster, I think I mightliterally die.”
“You will notliterally die, Barker,” he parrots, smirking. But he punctuates that statement with a hard thrust of his hips, and I let out an ungodly sound. “But if you keep making those sounds, I’ll do anything you ask.”
He bends one of my knees and presses it up by my shoulder, opening me wider. I curse, claw at his back, meet him thrust for thrust.
“We fit together so well, P,” he bites out between thrusts. “Look how well you take me.Madefor each other.”
I nod. I can’t deny him this, not when he feels so good, not when it feels so right this time. I grip his butt, squeezing, which seems to spur him on. The snapping of our hips and the panting breaths and stuttered curses that fill the room weave together like a sweet symphony that only we get to hear. And then, he breaks it.
“Pen,Penelope I’mgonnacome.”
I moan. His pleasure is what gets me. I want to own it. Live in it. I don’t even care if I finish if he’s going to sound that desperate when he does, but when, “Tell me you’re close baby. Need to feel you first,” comes out in clipped groans, I reach for his hand.
I guide it between our legs, where I can feel the vibration of his thighs from where he’s so clearly holding back.
“That’s so hot,” I whine. “Do you feel that? You’re shaking.”
“I’mfullyaware.”
With his hand sandwiched between us, I reach up and wipe the sweaty hair from his brow. His jaw is clenched in pleasured agony, but his eyes are bright with me. Holding him there, I press my lips against his.
“Make me come, Anthony. Make me come so I can feel you come inside me.”
His thumb works in quick circles in tandem with his erratic thrusts. I can’t even keep up. I just lie there and take what he’s so willing to give. I wrap my free leg around his back and clench my inner muscles, crying out as they spasm around him. All the while I keep my eyes on him.
They’re my favorite shade of blue, that turquoise that doesn’t quite fit the ocean or the night sky. But they explode into technicolor, like the birth of a new planet, when he slams his hips into mine and lets himself go.
And he says my name when he does.
Penelopesounds more like longing, more likeneedanddesperationthan any other way you could arrange those letters. It makes my heart stutter step until it finds his beat.
It takes him a few stuttered thrusts, but he buries his head into my shoulder and melts there. I don’t dare move him.
Not when I have Anthony Ellis surrendered like this.
Not when that look in his eyes when he called my name tasted like forgiveness and second chances.
I don’t know what to do with it all. So instead of figuring out the why’s and the how’s, I simply wrap my arms around him and hope that he doesn’t slip through my fingers this time.
thirty-six
anthony
“Where are you going?”
I can’t erase the panic in her voice. I know that it’s my fault it’s there. Before I’m even fully up, I lay back down, still inside her, and pull her to me for a kiss so gentle and tender, I wonder if it’ll leave the lettersl-o-v-etattooed on her lips.
“I’m just getting a washcloth to clean you up. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Even in the three little kisses I leave her with, her nails digging into my wrist cut like a knife. I disappear and return as quickly as I can, making sure we’re both clean before I dive back into bed. Still, I’m not sure what we’re doing here. I want nothing more than to pull her to me, but she seems hesitant. We’re laying on our sides beneath the covers facing each other, eyes wandering, the inches of space between us the size of the ocean.
“So, I think I joined a knitting circle with your mom,” she says, doing that thing again where she draws aimless patterns in the sheets.
“Oh yeah? How’d that come about?” I ask. Anything to keep her talking.
“She said she needed more hands knitting beanies for the NICU or something. I figured I could do my part for your mom since…”
She freezes her ministrations.