“Ty,” I moan his name, sounding pitiful and needy and not caring in the slightest.
He rolls my nipple as his other hand cups my core, making me gasp as he presses his fingers against me, creating a spike of desperation that has me bucking my hips and whimpering. Last night, the scientist in me tackled the awkward elephant in the room: safe sex. We’d used condoms every time, but with oral sex, I’d been regretting not having the conversation sooner.
Awkwardness tinged the conversation initially, but he quickly normalized it with stats that my sanity needed as well as the admission that few of his “conquests” were sexual victories but rather public make-out sessions, which my ego rejoiced in far more than I thought I would. It also has me feeling more adventurous and intimate as I twist in his arms and go to my knees, scooting down and taking the blankets with me, exposing his chiseled chest and abs.
I slip my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them out and down to free his hardened length. Ty leans back, tucking his hands behind his head, exposing the tattoo on the inside of his bicep—the one I’d tried to see at the beginning of our trip. It’s a map of the world but artfully distorted with stitches between England and the United States. It’s painfully beautiful and likely reflective of far more than I’m aware.
I run my hands down his abs, tracing each defined line, and he hisses out a breath as I make my way to his hardened cock. I grin, tracing the same pattern over his body. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, peeking at me through the fringe of russet-colored lashes.
I feel sexy.
Empowered.
Beautiful.
I slide my palm over his shaft, and he tips his chin back, seeking strength as I flash my tongue across the tip.
I lick him from base to crown, watching his cock twitch as he grinds out a swear word, his accent thicker. I lick him again and again, changing the pace and pressure of my tongue until he’s fisting the sheets, his knuckles bone white. I take him in my mouth, licking over his head when he groans. “Chloe, you’re going to make me come.”
I lower my mouth even more, and his thighs flex under my hands as he swears again. I move, ready to lick his shaft, drunk on this power I feel. The moment I move, he’s grabbing me, hauling me up and onto my back, pinning me in place with his gaze wild and bright. His lips crash against mine in a kiss that translates his hunger and desire while devouring me. I kiss him back, meeting him thrust for thrust with my tongue, gripping his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer, wanting to feel his skin against mine.
“I need you,” I say against his lips, kissing him again as I raise my hips to feel him. “I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen. We’re both clean. This is safe. I want to feel you.”
His blue gaze casts down my body and then lands back on my face.
“I mean…” I struggle to gain sense and words that make sense and the right order to place them in. “We don’t have to. If it’s a rule for you, we can use a condom.”
A smile curves the corners of his lips, and then he kisses away my self-consciousness. “Are you sure?”
“I want to feel you inside of me.”
He closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring with a long breath. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, opening his eyes slowly, the lust still evident, along with something that makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight and my thoughts spin in circles. I close my eyes and lift my face to kiss him again.
Tyler braces himself over me, his breath sharp as his tip nudges against my opening. Then his eyes are on mine as he moves into me in one fluid motion, his weight on his hands as he thrusts. It feels so achingly good I forget about our nine-hour car drive ahead of us and how we’re quickly nearing the end of our trip and how every day I yearn and crave being around him a little more.
“God, you feel so good,” he says, brushing his lips across my jaw before his breath fans across my cheek.
I feel impossibly strong and incredibly weak. Empowered, yet vulnerable.
Tyler peppers kisses across my cheek and then goes up on his elbows and starts moving, gentle and controlled as his stare seems to infiltrate my thoughts and far deeper, seeing how significant this moment—how significant he is to me.
He kisses me, moving faster and harder, his breaths heavier. The feeling of him and everything about this moment has me spiraling, and when his chest grazes mine, my thighs begin to shake, and the pressure in my core builds. He thrusts into me faster, his breaths turning harsh, his movements uneven and jerky, and I come undone, and after a few more pumps, he chases my orgasm with his own.
He slumps across my chest, still inside of me. His face is tucked against mine, his breath warm against my neck and cheek. Our hearts race each other as they settle into a slower tempo. I slide my hands into his hair, mindlessly raking my nails across his scalp, absorbing this moment and the heat and weight of him, basking in my post-orgasm bliss that makes me wish we could stay here all day.
“What if we add another day?” Tyler asks.
“Another day?” Guilt twists in my stomach because I want the same, and yet the idea of missing my invitation seems like such a hefty price.
“We can stay another day in Portland. Do nothing. Just spend the day in the hotel. You and me. I can arrange for us to
