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“If you feel anything like how you taste, I’m warning you, get out now.” He placed his forehead against mine. “Because I won’t let you go.”
I smiled against his lips, but then he thrust inside me with a low growl and the only thing I could do was gasp at the feel. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he was deep, and I swore I felt him everywhere. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tugging him, begging for him to ease the tension building inside me. He filled me with more tension, an ache that made my eyes roll back and traveled to the tips of my toes. I was tingling all over as he moved, my chest expanding as I gripped his arms tight. Soon I felt an explosion of emotions go off inside me. It had never felt like that—like art—colorful and raw.
“Fuck, Amelia.” He thrust again. He pressed his forehead against mine, eyes shut tight as he came to a stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not letting you go.” His eyes popped open, meeting mine as he pulled out and thrust again. “I never want to let you go.”
“So don’t.” I grabbed his shoulders and moved to his tempo.
We held each other the entire time, looking into each other’s eyes as if scared the other would disappear. I came like a firework going off in the dead of night, loudly and trembling. He followed in the same fashion, his grunts decreasing as his strokes died down. He let himself fall over me until we were chest to chest, but held himself off to the side to not burden me with his weight. Our hearts beat against one another’s, having a conversation that was too deep for either of us to voice aloud right now. The only time we left the bed was to clean up and start again, as if needing to satiate the ache that had been building between us. When our bodies were tired and we finally decided on sleep, he kissed my shoulder and held me close. It was the best sleep I’d gotten in weeks.