Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(56)

I lose track after orgasm number three. And eventually I can’t and don’t want to wait any longer. It’s not just about getting lost in her, which I admittedly want. But more than that, I need her. I need the closeness. I need to know she’s mine and that no matter what happens at the end of the season, that’s not going to change.

I prowl up her body, position myself at her entrance and ease in.

I drop my forehead against her neck and groan. “Only you make me feel this alive.”

Charlene’s knees press against my ribs, and links her hands behind my neck. “I felt empty all day,” she whispers.

Her words make the hairs on my arms stand on end. Something about her tone tells me this isn’t just about withholding orgasms. It’s more.

I kiss my way up her neck and across her jaw. “And how do you feel now?” I push up on my arms so I can see her face.

“Like you’re under my skin, but I can’t get you deep enough.”

I roll my hips, and she moans quietly. I don’t know what’s happening here, but I want to give her everything she needs. I want to be everything she needs.

I slip my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, cradling her head in my palm as I drop my lips to hers. I can still taste her on my tongue, so when she licks at my mouth and moans, I know it’s because she can taste herself.

I kiss her the same way I move inside her. I’m in no rush for this to end, and somewhere inside my head, I fear what will happen when it does. Things between us are shifting again. And as close as I feel to her in this moment, I worry that outside of it, there will be distance I don’t know how to bridge.

Charlene grabs my biceps, fingernails digging in while she moves with me. I pull back in time to see her eyes flutter open and meet mine as she starts to pulse around me.

Charlene spends a great deal of energy trying to make sex into some kind of event, as if she feels l need to be entertained to enjoy her. But nothing compares to this. There are no distractions, nothing to get in the way as I watch her light up under me. She lifts her hand and drags gentle fingers down my cheek.

I close my eyes for a second, absorbing the sensation before I catch and hold Charlene’s gaze again. The orgasm is painfully intense as it burns through me. White spots blank out of my vision, taking away Charlene’s perfect face for the briefest moment. It feels as if I’m drowning in pleasure so extreme the possibility of never having it again is agony.

I drop my head, nuzzling into her neck, breathing in the salty sweet scent of her skin. My body feels weighed down with satiety. I want this every day. I want to wake up to this, go to sleep to this, come home to this, and I’m not sure why it took this long for me to realize it. My limbs are heavy and uncoordinated as I ease out. I slip an arm under her and roll to the side, taking her with me.

Charlene tucks her head under my chin, a shiver ripping through her. At first I think it’s the aftermath of such a powerful, drawn-out orgasm, or maybe she’s cold. I try to shift away so I can tuck us under the covers, but she mumbles no against my neck and tightens her hold.

“Let me get a warm cloth so I can make you more comfortable,” I murmur against her temple, once again trying to extricate myself.

She clings tighter and shakes her head, shuddering again.

I pull back enough so I can see her face, but she twists her head away, tucking her chin against her shoulder, eyes screwed up tight.

“Are you okay?” I stroke her cheek, hoping to calm her, but her lips twist as if she’s fighting whatever emotions are swimming to the surface, ones she’s clearly trying to hide.

“I’m fine,” she whispers brokenly, still not looking at me.

“You seem the opposite of fine.”

“I need a minute. Please.”

I don’t know what to make of this reaction, or the way she’s clinging to me. This isn’t typical Charlene behavior, and I don’t know how to handle it.

A tiny whimper hums across my throat.

“Did I hurt you?” I don’t think I did. I’m always extraordinarily careful with Charlene.

She shakes her head into my shoulder, which should be a relief, but the fact that she’s breaking down emotionally after sex seems bad. The sound of her pain tears at my heart, her ache my own.

I want to be better at this, at caring for someone. A wave of emotion slams into me, the kind I’ve guarded against my entire life. I shift her body so I can sit up and keep her in my lap. She wraps her legs around my waist, arms locked around my shoulders with her face buried against the crook of my neck.

She feels like she could break apart in my arms, and I’m forced to finally accept the truth I’ve been hiding from: I’m in love with Charlene, and have been for a very long time.

Jesus. I’m so emotionally stunted by my fucked-up family, I couldn’t even recognize love until it punched me in the face.

I rub circles on Charlene’s back with one hand and smooth my free palm over the back of her head. “Breathe, baby,” I murmur in her ear and press my lips to her temple. “Let me make it better.”

She sucks in a high-pitched breath, and I worry I’m making it worse. Eventually she seems to calm, and then her lips find that sensitive space behind my ear. She trails kisses up my neck and along the edge of my jaw.

For a moment I’m confused, until I realize her mouth is meant to be a distraction. It almost works.