Proving Paul's Promise(54)

My breaths are still ragged and so are hers. She rests her chin on her hand and draws a circle around my tender tattoo. “I really love this,” she says.

I don’t say what I want to say because I’m afraid she won’t say it back when she’s not in the throes of passion. I don’t tell her I love her.

“I meant it,” she suddenly blurts out.

I look down my nose at her. “Meant what?”

She hides her face, but I can hear her. “Everything I said. I meant it.”

“I know.” I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “I know you did.”

She would call me a * if she looked up and saw my eyes glistening the way they must be right now.

I know she meant it, and that’s what makes what I’m going to do her tomorrow all the more scary.





Friday

Paul wakes me up the next morning before the sun comes up. He’s tucked in behind me, and my butt is cradled by his thighs. He cups my breast, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger very gently while he kisses the back of my neck and across my shoulder.

“You awake?” he asks softly, lifting his lips for only a moment, and then he puts them back on my skin, right back where I want them.

“I am now.” I cover his hand with mine and show him that he can apply more pressure. He’s so careful. I guess it’s because I told him my boobs are tender.

I can feel him behind me. He’s hot, hard, and ready, so I lift my leg a little, giving him some room, and he slides inside me in one warm, wet, completely full stroke. He grunts and says, “So good,” right beside my ear. It’s more moan and breath than talk, though. “I like waking up with you in my bed.”

I close my eyes and let him f*ck me slowly, feeling him move in and out, the base of his stomach bumping my ass every time he fills me.

“God, Friday, I can’t last for shit when I’m inside you.”

His hand slides down my belly, and his fingers press insistently against my clit, and he rubs back and forth, his finger gently manipulating my piercing, putting just the right pressure on it.

He grabs on to my top leg and rolls me to my back without pulling out of me. He lifts my legs over his thighs and spreads me open wide. He rubs my * while he f*cks me. He pulls my hand to my breasts and says, “Play with them so I can watch.” He sits up on his elbow, and his gaze falls to my boobs. He licks his lips. He doesn’t stop his slow slide inside or his nimble fingers that are carrying me higher and higher.

He smirks at me when I look into his eyes and rub my thumbs across my nipple piercings. It doesn’t take much. That’s enough to send me over. I come, trembles overtaking my body as he pushes me through the orgasm, his fingers quick and sure as he strums my clit. He wrings every last tremor from me, and then he lifts up, pushes my knee toward my chest and puts his weight on it, and he f*cks me harder. I cry out, but his lips cover mine, and he whispers, “Shh.”

I try to hold it back, but I can’t. So, he keeps my mouth busy with his tongue as he pumps in and out, his movements suddenly frantic and quick.

“I’m going to come inside you.”

I nod. I have kept my eyes closed because the sensation of him moving inside me is more than I can bear. But when I open my eyes and find his boring into mine, my breath leaves me and a warm wash of pleasure takes me over the top. It’s nothing like the clitoral orgasm of moments before, but it’s pleasant and so f*cking hot. And only then, when I am spent and lax beneath him, does he finally come.

“I’m coming,” he warns. “Coming inside you.” His eyes close, and he grunts, his dick pulsing inside me almost painfully, but it’s a good bite. Definitely not a bad one.

He lets my leg drop, falls onto my chest, and kisses my shoulder, the weight of him so welcome that I never want him to move. But he pulls back. I grab for him, and he dodges my hands, saying, “I’ll be right back.” He kisses my cheek and moves away. I see him slide on a pair of boxers, and he dashes into the bathroom. He comes back a minute later with a warm, wet washcloth, and he cleans me up. “Sit up just a little,” he says. He pulls one of his T-shirts over my head and then slides my panties on me. It’s like he’s dressing a doll, but I’m totally worthless for at least the next few minutes. “I like you f*ck drunk,” he says with a grin.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” I ask, my voice groggy and thick.

“Hayley will be up in a minute.”

I toss the covers back. “I should go to my room.”

He pulls the covers back over me and climbs in with me. “No,” he says. “Stay.”

I am too well worked to protest. I can barely think, much less complain. I roll over, and he tosses his leg over my bottom and pulls me against him. His fingers tickle up and down my back as I fall back asleep. Quiet comfort overtakes me, and I welcome it.

I feel a tap, tap, tap on the side of my nose and open my eyes to find blue eyes just like Paul’s staring into mine. “Hayley,” I say. I wipe my eyes. The sun is just barely up.

Paul sits up on his elbow and looks over me. “Go back to sleep, Hayley,” he says.

“The sun is shining,” she says.

“No, it’s not,” he tells her. Then he reaches over me, grabs her, and pulls her over my body. She lands between us and snuggles into the spot. She closes her eyes and yawns. “Go back to sleep,” he tells her again.