Still Not Over You(43)
Holy hell.
My hips start pounding into his, a shrill sound coming in the back of my throat. I just came, but my clit can barely stand how hard he starts to fuck. Landon pushes his forehead against mine, and we're eye-to-eye when our O comes together and the universe spins apart.
So gone.
Just a few sharp jerks of his hips. That moment when his whole body goes rigid and he growls my name. His dick swelling while my pussy pulls at every inch, and then a magma heat I swear I feel, even through the condom.
I scream one long spasm, losing myself in the storm of his body slamming into mine.
All I can do is cling to him, adrift, my heart fluttering loudly and strangely, and my body forever branded with his mark.
*
I think I actually passed out.
I think Landon Strauss honest-to-God fucked me into blacking out.
That’s a first.
I’m only gone for a few seconds. I think.
Enough to miss him separating our bodies, which I probably couldn’t have handled anyway when I’m sensitive inside and out, a live wire waiting for a spark.
I come dimly awake as he lifts me into his arms. Through my half-closed eyes I think I see the spent condom falling forgotten under the picnic table bench, before I drift off again.
When my eyes open a second time, struggling, I can’t really see the used rubber anymore and think it must’ve been a dream.
Everything does, no surprise.
“Landon?” I mumble drowsily.
“Shhh,” he murmurs. Okay, and I’m definitely dreaming because that’s tenderness in his voice. “I’m just getting us settled. Sleep, Reb.”
“But...outside...”
He chuckles, a quiet thing that rolls through me, shaking his shoulders and my whole body where he holds me against his chest. It’s a warm sound, a comforting sound, and without even opening my eyes I snuggle against it, pillowing my head to his shoulder.
“Newsflash: people have been sleeping outside since caveman days,” he says gently. “We’ll be fine. It's beautiful out here tonight.”
He’s moving, then, and I manage to pry one tired eye open long enough to see he’s settling us down on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. Then warmth drapes over me as he snags a beach blanket from a stack folded on the patio table and wraps it around us both.
We settle into this dreamy warmth, comfortable against the reclining lounger. I should probably protest being curled up in his lap this way, but my sore, sated, deliciously tired body doesn’t want to move.
Spent is the word I always use after my fictional ladies get fucked into the next universe. Whatever I am right now, it doesn't seem powerful enough to describe how utterly drained I am.
“'Night, Landon.” I manage to slur, already sinking away again, fighting an expansive yawn.
Another chuckle. A kiss to the top of my head. “Sweet dreams, little Reb.”
I want to say something else, ask him what this means, but my head is heavy and my tongue is thick and his arms feel far too good.
Forget it. I don’t want to ask. Not now.
I just want to enjoy this strange, miraculous thing, and drift off to sleep in his arms.
I guess it really is as easy as it is in my books. I should have seen it coming.
Except I’d be lying.
Because there’s nothing easy or predictable about Landon Strauss at all.
12
Catchup (Landon)
Clearly, impulse control isn't my strong point.
If it was, I wouldn’t be waking up under the blistering SoCal mid-morning sun with the only things saving me from a sunburn being an overhanging tree, a beach blanket, and Reb’s near-naked body.
Shit!
Is this real life? Did I really get in my car, chase McKenna Burke down, and fuck her on the grass in her brother’s backyard?
Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did, and considering how good she felt wrapped around me and how good she feels against me right now, I can’t really say I’ve got too many regrets.
Even though I know it’s a massive mistake.
It's a life changing fuck-up, even, but the only thing on my mind is how hard I am against her thigh. And how fucking good I bet her pussy would taste on my tongue as a wake-up call.
Then cold reality hits me between the eyes.
Right now, I’ve got enough drama in my life that I don’t need more. While I don’t regret sex with Kenna, I’m gonna regret the fistfight if her brother walks out here and finds us like this.
Guessing by the sunlight, it’s about ten or so, and it’s a miracle Steve hasn't already come outside to water the ficus or something, and wake me up with a ferocious smack across the back of my head.
“Kenna.” I nudge her gently. “Wake up.”
“Mmph.”
That little fucking kitten of a woman just burrows into me deeper. And it’s really not helping things, considering her shirt is still rucked up and her bra is still mangled down. Her pale, soft breasts and those strawberry-pink nipples rub against my naked chest, and if I wasn’t wearing jeans, having her bare skin against me would probably just end up with us doing it all over again instead of me struggling to ignore my growing hard-on.
“Kenna,” I repeat, louder, shifting my body to jostle her a bit more firmly. “Wake the fuck up. We’re half naked and your brother’s home. You want Steve to see us like this?”