Instead, my legs turn into putty from the nimble pressure of his tongue at the tip of my mound. I gasp loudly as his mouth traces the naked, sensitive edges of my flower and sucks on them. I whimper and thrash as I ride his fingers and tongue into a sea of delight.
My body gives a final shudder as he sends me completely over the edge. Now I understand why women would pay and put up with the pain to get their woohas primped and waxed. It definitely feels… different. Everything feels magnified and more intense. It’s like the high-definition version of sex.
Once my head cools, I realize I am still angry at him. No matter how mind-blowing the sex is, I need to know that he is someone I can trust. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t trust me either.
I hop on to my feet and try to pull the man up. “Fletcher, we need to talk.”
He leans back and resists me. “Talk?” He gives me a crooked smile. “I’m not sure I can do that. My tongue is a little too tired right now.”
I turn red and tug on his shoulders. “Come on. Be serious.”
He leaps off and walks behind me. His arms circle me as he presses his face into the back of my head. “I am serious. Can’t you tell how serious the situation is?”
I frown and then turn even redder. I can feel his enormous member pressing hard against my backside.
“I don’t think I can hold off one more second. That’s how serious I am.” He chuckles and nips my earlobe.
His thick, muscular arms hold my hips in place. I lean my head back to kiss him. I can taste my tanginess on his warm, moist tongue. The wetness between my legs tells me I haven’t had enough of this man.
I know I need to talk to him. I must talk to him. I have to talk to him. But that can wait until tomorrow.
I splay my legs and position myself. I dig my fingers into the hard metal table and close my eyes. I want to feel him inside of me.
His hands gently stroke my ass cheeks and spread them. The large, familiar tip of his cock presses up against my wetness. He moans and my legs almost give way under me. He holds me tight between his arms as he slowly enters me. Each inch feels even bigger than the last, and I sob from the overwhelming sensation. I honestly haven’t been with anyone except for Fletcher, and now I’m not sure if I ever will.
His thrusts are slow and measured at first until his length is slick with my juices and then the undulation of his hips increases in speed. I am now leaning completely over the table as I try to bury my cries between my forearms.
The thrusts increase in speed and intensity. He growls, almost animal-like. He is usually so polished and it turns me on to see him lose control. Soon, my body convulses in pleasure as a bright white light cascades over my body and I am lost in my climax. He soon follows me when he gives a final growl as he pumps into my body.
My hair covers my face as I find the rest of my clothes and put them on. I avoid looking at Fletcher or talking to him. My cheeks get hot as I feel the trail of slickness running down the inside of my thighs, reminding me of what had just happened. I feel so embarrassed. Honestly, I don’t know what to say to him. It feels so awkward to start a conversation with the person I just had sex with in a storage room!
Fletcher turns to me and sighs happily. He gives me a tight bear hug and kisses me all over. His index finger gingerly brushes against my cheek and he wraps a loose curl behind my ear. He smiles at me. A broad, genuinely radiant smile that practically melts my heart, but I don’t feel like returning it.
“Men,” I can hear Meghan’s snarky voice in my head. “They think all they need to do is just stick it in.”
“Let’s get married.” His smile broadens, and he kisses me again. His tongue is soft and carefully prods into my mouth, but I keep my lips sealed. Seriously? Is this how he wants to propose? I don’t need a fancy restaurant or a marching band, but I want to be in a beautiful surrounding, not the dark storage room filled with stacks of coffee filters and paper napkins!
Also, there are many other things I want to ask him. So many questions that I have. Does he trust me? Can I trust him again? How should we work through this? Will he push me away whenever things get difficult? Does he even see me as an equal? Does he even respect what I want?
A cold shiver runs down my spine. Is that it? He waltzes in here and overwhelms me with amazing sex and the promise of marriage, and I’m supposed to just brush everything else under the rug and accept him? I know that simply getting married doesn’t solve any problems, and I don’t want to be trapped in an unhappy one like my mom. Does he even care about what I think or what I want? Does he even want to hear what I have to say? I realize he doesn’t really see or understand the real me. And I’m not sure if he ever will.
“No,” I reply with a bitter smile on my lips.
Chapter 18
Fletcher
The sun beats down upon my face as I watch the tourists and families walk up and down the piers. It is a warm weekend and a lot of children are running around and playing by the water. I watch with longing as I think about the children I wanted to have with Amelia. I ruminate on how
