Page 44 of The Second Dance

I convinced myself I didn’t need it.

Sex was overrated.

But damn, I forgot how good it was.

He fills me so completely, occupying my body and my thoughts. Every movement drags a shiver of pleasure from my body.

He tugs my bra down, letting my breasts spill out. He takes my nipple and a mouthful of my breast into his mouth, pinching my other nipple with his fingers.

I was going to maintain my dignity. Hold onto my shreds of pride like armor, but he is stripping me down and leaving me bare. I cry out his name over and over, arching against him. Thank God he lives alone.

He moves those magical lips to my neck, to my ear. And he whispers tender words into my ears as he cock drives into me. He loves my hair. My eyes. My tits and ass.

Dirty, rough words mix in with the sweet ones. It’s intoxicating.

He releases the back of my bra and eases it off my shoulders, peppering my skin with kisses.

Beautiful, aching tension builds in my core and when he reaches down to slip his fingers over my clit, I easily tumble over the edge.

I’m seeing stars, arching against him.

God only knows what’s coming out of my mouth.

I can feel myself clamping down around his shaft and with a grunt that sounds almost pained, he tenses up over me and then he’s coming, pulsating inside me.

He hovers over me, forehead pressing against my shoulder. I pull him down, coaxing him to lay as much of his weight as he dares over my body. It feels so good. Like a human weighted blanket. I am a relaxed and content beneath him.

He starts to pull out and I hook a leg around his, persuading him to ease back down. “Just one more minute.” I murmur, letting my eyes drift shut.

His fingers work through my hair and he kisses my neck for a bit before I let him pull away. He steps into his bathroom before coming back out with boxers on.

He snags my panties from the corner of the bed and hooks them over the bedpost. “You don’t need these just yet.”

Slipping back into bed, he pulls the heavy duvet over us and drags me close. He heaves a big sigh, snuggling closer. His heavy limbed-relaxation is contagious. My body aches pleasantly, the memory of his body is imprinted in mine.

I am relaxation personified.

I am bliss.

Bo runs his fingers through my hair. “Was I your first?”

…I am leaving.

I twist away from him and he catches me, chuckling. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere less mortifying.” I say, my back pinned against his side. He turns so that his body curves around mine, arms holding me sweetly.

“You’re embarrassed?”

“Duh.”

He chuckles again. It’s infuriating. But the vibrations from his chest spread across my back and dull my thoughts.

I sigh, wondering why his fingers in my hair feel so insanely good. “If you must know, you were.” I pause, asking almost timidly. “Was I yours?”

“No.” He says carefully. “But you were the best.”

“Hmm.” Skepticism laces through my tone.