Broken Juliet(89)

Every other man who’s ever touched me fades from my memory. It’s always been him. Even when I wanted to forget, my body remembered.

He pulls off my T-shirt, and when his mouth connects with my chest, I anchor my hands in his hair and pull him forward. Urge him to take more.

All of me. Everything I am is for him.

He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he’s moving. Pressing and grinding, and unashamed of how hard he is.

We get more frantic. Desperate and impatient, we communicate with low sounds and needy hands.

He pulls me away from the wall and carries me down the hallway. When we reach his bed, he’s barely laid me down before he’s tugging at the rest of my clothes.

I kick off my shoes, and he attacks my jeans. His concentrated frown as he works them down my legs is all kinds of sexy. When I’m only in my underwear, he pauses and stares.

“Goddamn.” He shakes his head. “No matter how much I fantasize, the real you still takes my breath away. It always did.”

I sit up and remove my bra. He swallows hard.

“Shall I remove these?” I ask as I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties. “Or do you want to?”

His expression turns predatory. “Oh, I want to. I very much want to.”

He grabs my ankles and drags me to the edge of the bed. Then he pulls my legs up onto his torso.

“This fantasy was one of my favorites,” he says, as he slides off my panties and kneels in front of me. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

He starts at my ankle. Soft kisses and slow torture as he works his way up. Every piece of skin he isn’t touching is jealous and desolate. Everything else sparks and fires through my veins. Powering a deep, spinning ache.

He takes his time, and all I can do is close my eyes and grip the sheets. He knows what he’s doing. Self-assured. When he closes his mouth over me, I arch so hard I’m barely touching the bed.

I talk to God. A lot. I tell him Ethan’s name. A lot. Everything spins and flutters, and I alternate their names in tight whispers.

“God … Ethan…”

I struggle for coherence. I don’t remember him ever being this good. I mean, he was always amazing, but this? It’s beyond words. For a man who hasn’t done it in a long time, his skill level is … oh, God …

I can’t even think anymore.

His hands never stop moving, and every touch winds me tighter. I’m floating so high, I feel like I’m four feet above the mattress. He keeps me there, hovering on the edge of sensation and satisfaction. Then, with a flick of his tongue and a curl of his fingers, I’m crashing back down, dizzy and breathless.

I can’t move. My brain has checked out. Breathing is an alien concept.

He kisses back up my body. I summon enough strength to wind my fingers through his hair, and he hums against my skin. His voice does things to me even his hands can’t.

“I’ve missed seeing that,” he says. “You look incredible when you come.”

While keeping my eyes closed, I stroke his arms as he continues trailing kisses all over. The feel of his muscles helps pull me out of my daze. Makes me hungry for more.

It’s my turn, so I push him onto his back. I can deliver just as much sweet torture as he can. I start on his neck. He responds with noises that border on animalistic.

I kiss him everywhere. Touch him like it’s the first time, all over again. In a way, it is. Every incarnation of him has owned me, but this one actually deserves to.

When I get to the waistband of his jeans, I lick and nibble his hips. He sounds like he’s in pain. Judging by the tightness in his crotch, I’m sure he is.

I unbutton his jeans. He’s mumbling things I can’t understand as I pull them off and start on his legs. He swears under his breath and buries his hands in his hair. I revel in my power over him.

He’s barely holding himself together. I don’t blame him. If I hadn’t had sex for years, it would only take a single touch to completely unravel me. His control is remarkable.

The dark fabric of his boxer-briefs clings to every inch of him. I run a single finger down the swollen length. He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes out a long breath. I do it again, and he slaps the bed before gripping the covers.

I move down to stroke his thigh. “Do you want me to stop?”

He keeps his eyes closed but grabs my hand so he can pull me up to his face. “Just let me do this for a while.” He kisses me and turns us so we’re both on our sides. Then he pulls my leg up to his hip and presses his erection against me, trying to acclimate himself to being with me again.

We kiss and grind, and it all feels so good. His hands move over me like we’ve never been apart. The rhythm of him is intoxicating.

“Is it okay if I touch you now?” I ask.

He nods. “I was about to start begging.”

“Did you fantasize about me touching you while we were apart?”

“Every single day. Sometimes, multiple times a day. Fantasy You was a total nympho.”

I move my hand between us and palm him. He moans, and I smile. “So, kinda close to Reality Me, then?”

He flops onto his back. “Yep. Pretty much. Dear God.”

I kiss down his neck. Graze my teeth across his stubble and taste his skin. Kiss his Adam’s apple as he makes a long, low noise. The buzz on my lips tickles. All the while I stroke him through taut fabric. Run my hands over trembling muscles.