As soon as I slide his belt free and toss it away, I grab at his pants and yank them down. His cock springs free, the tip glistening with pre-come, the veins standing out starkly against his skin.
He is bursting for me.
I grab the base of him and bring my lips to the head. I’m surprised by the salty taste, and even more surprised that I like it. It’s his moans that do it, soft, throaty growling noises that fill my ears as I tentatively slide my lips around his cock.
I stroke his shaft up and down as I bob my head, licking around the width of him.
When I twist instead of stroking—I’m still in the experimental phase here—his growls get even deeper. I keep going, losing myself in it, my moans muffled and my mouth full of the taste of him.
“Camille.” He touches my cheek softly. “If you keep going …”
He looks so powerful standing over me like that, his chest heaving with barely contained lust.
“I want to make you feel good, baby.”
“Then come here.”
He grabs me under the arms and makes to lift me onto the bed. I place my hands on his chest.
“No, Erik,” I whisper. “I want to make you feel good. Lie down.”
His old twitching smile returns, but when I give him a shove he climbs onto the bed and lies on his back. I hike up my dress and leap on top of him.
He hisses when I grab his cock and guide it to my pussy, sitting down so that an inch of him, and then two, four, six, and then finally all of him slides up deeply inside of me.
I move myself up, propping my hands on his chest. His eyes are locked on me the whole time, his eyebrows furrowed almost in surprise. It’s like he’s been waiting his entire life to feel this.
I can empathize. I feel exactly the fucking same.
“I love you.” I move quicker now, twitching my hips back and forth. “I love you. I fucking love—”
He braces my back and leans up, finding my lips as the sudden pleasure releases.
Our teeth click together in the hurried passion. I’m bouncing on him now like my life depends on it, spurred on by the way he can’t even kiss me, he’s so busy moaning. I want him to feel what I feel.
I want him to lose himself as badly as I am lost.
“You’re so fucking good at that,” he whispers with a small laugh.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
I make to push his shoulders down again. He grabs my wrists. We lock in place, his cock buried deep, our bodies connected so intimately that right now, in this moment, I can’t imagine being apart.
“But now it is my turn,” he smiles.
“Ah!” I cry as he flips me over.
I run my hands down his back, clutching onto his hips and pulling him into me. He attacks me with kisses: my forehead, my cheek, my neck. One hand slides under my dress and cups my breast and he plants the other beside me, holding himself up.
“You need to come in me,” I moan, my pussy electric now. I feel a tsunami coming, threatening to shatter me utterly. “With me, baby. Come in me and come with me.”
His face gets tight and he runs his lips along my forehead in a trembling gasp. His whole body stiffens as drives himself deeper than he has gone yet, so deep that his cock crushes that sweet spot inside of me. He holds it there, muscles bulging like they might burst from his skin.
“F-f-fuck,” he gasps.
I try to moan but all that comes out is a staccato, hollow sound, as though I am choking. I find his lips as we grind towards a shared crescendo.
He collapses on top of me as his cock begins to wilt, showering me with gentle kisses.
“We’re in deep now,” I whisper.
“There’s no place I would rather be,” he replies, drawing circle patterns on my shoulder with his finger.
“That tickles,” I giggle.
“It does? Tell me … does this?”
He slides his hand down my collarbone, over my breasts, toward my belly.
“Don’t you dare—Erik!”
Laughing like a woman possessed, I leap across the bed, away from his exploring fingers, not trusting myself to stay away if he presses the issue too hard.
He chases me, tickling under my armpits, over my belly. Finally he grabs my ankle and strokes his hands over the bottom of my feet.
I’m laughing so hard that I forget about the world, forget about Mom, forget about Rob, forget about who this man is and what I’m supposed to feel. For the first time since we met, I just sink into the here and now.
It’s a wonderful place to be.
I clutch onto my baby as the warm waves lap around my knees, splashing like droplets of summer rain.
The scene couldn’t be more picturesque if it was a vacation ad: palm trees sway in the gentle breeze on the beach behind me, the sky blazes clear and blue, and the little bundle in my arms makes cooing noises that damn near melt my ovaries.
“We have to keep the child safe.”
The voice comes from behind me.
I turn, but there’s nothing but the beach.
“Safe …”
The wind whistles through the trees. The phantom voice whispers behind it.
“They want him dead, Camille. Who will keep him safe if I am gone?”
“E-Erik? Where are you? Erik!”
Suddenly the palm trees rupture and break apart.
Cloying air wraps around me like Saran wrap, suffocating.
I lash out with everything I have, but it traps my legs, cutting off all sound. Silence locks around me as Erik’s voices gets quieter and quieter.
“Safe … safe … safe …”
I wake with a start, sweat coating me, sticking to the sheets.
Jesus, I haven’t had a nightmare like that since high school, when I’d imagine standing over Rob’s dead body, trying to scream but not able to.
The room is pitch-dark, Erik
