I lower my head, holding her in my arms, and nip her earlobe. “Condom?”
“Bedside drawer,” she pants.
I rip open the wrapper with my teeth and slide it on, then brace my arms beside Greer’s head and hover over her.
She strokes her hands over my biceps with an appreciative grin.
“What’s that smile for?” I ask. Her damp heat is there, so close that my mouth waters and my body shakes, but I need to know she’s okay before we cross this line. Not that we didn’t already cross so many lines, but there’s always another line somewhere. This one feels like the biggest line. There’s no coming back from here, but I’d never want that anyway. Not when she makes me feel so fucking turned on and wanted and loved.
I feel loved.
She doesn’t have to say anything, but it’s some truth that echoes in my chest along with my thumping heart.
“Everything.” Greer’s blue eyes sparkle like the ocean. “Your arms.”
I laugh and align our bodies. “Pushups,” I say, and then I slide into her and lose my mind.
Greer’s laugh ripples into a moan of absolute pleasure, and I feel it too. It’s not just her body, tight and wet around me, it’s the way it feels to be right here in this moment. Our bodies fit so perfectly that I need to slow down for a second to regain a semblance of control. But then Greer clenches down around me, milking me, and my cock swells inside her. Hunger rips through my body and I need to move, can’t hold back anymore, and I push inside her until I’m balls-deep and heart-deep and so far gone that I couldn’t possibly find my way back.
I thrust into her, in and out, slow at the start but faster and faster as everything strips away except for us on this bed, in this room, together. I rain kisses over her whole face, stroking into her the whole time, some primal energy propelling me forward.
Breath flies out of us, and we’re both panting and sweaty in the best possible way. Our teeth bang together as we kiss, our tongues tangling, our mouths and bodies happy.
Greer kneads my ass in her hands, coaxing me, urging me deeper, harder, and I indulge her, thrusting so hard her headboard bangs against the wall in a rhythmic thump.
“Good thing your roommate’s gone,” I pant.
“Very good,” she agrees, and it’s the understatement of the year because she’s loud and I’m loud and it feels good to be vocal and guttural and to let this energy rip through our bodies and release somehow. Because there’s so much energy, so much pleasure that I can’t possibly contain it inside.
Greer wraps her legs all the way around me, tightening so there’s no more space between us.
“You’re going to make me come, Greer. I’m so close.” I’m losing control and she has my heart in her hands and I can feel the heat taking over and right now it’s about holding it back just long enough to make sure she’s here with me.
“Me too, Locke.” Her voice is shaking apart, we’re both shaking apart, and then coming together.
Heat boils through me, my balls tightening, and I come in a blaze of sensation, the pulse of my cock so strong that it sets Greer off, too.
Her moan is wordless and loud, but I feel her grip me, her pussy rippling around me. And with the last bit of sense I have left, I open my eyes in time to watch the orgasm grip her, roll through her—this thing that I gave her. That we made.
I thought I knew Greer before, but I didn’t realize what I was missing. How much I needed this part of her to belong to me, to know that I’m the cause of her pleasure, her deepest desire.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the look on her face.
I sink down beside her and roll onto my back with the biggest smile of my life. We lie together and stare up at the ceiling while our bodies come back to earth.
Then I brush a stray strand of hair behind Greer’s ear and kiss her forehead. “We should have done that ages ago.”
“I know.” She nestles against my chest with a contented smile. “That was the best tahini of my life.”
17
Greer
“Is it me, or are you really feeling the holiday spirit?” Eden asks, sweeping her eyes over my outfit with a smile.
I bounce on my toes for effect, and the fifty jingle bells sewn to my green boatneck shirt jingle on cue. “How could I not wear my ugly sweater to our gift exchange?”
Technically, the monstrosity is a sweatshirt, and in addition to the jingle bells, the shirt bears photos of six horrified-looking animals—a couple of cats and dogs with bows tied to their fur and a standout sloth who contrasts with all the domesticated animals. The sloth wears a humiliated look on his face like he knows he’s being exploited.
I’m really covering all my bases.
Eden taps a finger to her lips. “I don’t know. I think the shirt’s only part of the whole holiday thing you’ve got going on.”
“What do you mean?”
She gives me a knowing look and hooks her arm through mine to lead me toward the conference room where our party’s being held. “Well, your smokin’ hickey, for one.”
“Oh, crap.” My cheeks flame, and I tug the neckline of my sweatshirt higher. “I thought my makeup covered it.”
Last night, Locke snuck out of my place around eight p.m., assuring me he had to finish up his Secret Santa gift. I fell back into my bed, which still smelled like him—like us—and didn’t climb out of it until my alarm blared this morning, so I didn’t notice the hickey on my neck until I was already running ten minutes late to work.
The mark makes me feel like I’m fifteen, embarrassed but also wickedly proud. The evidence of Locke’s lust is right here on my neck, and it feels
