Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(81)
He didn’t let go. He rolled to his side, still clinging to me, still inside of me, the slick brush of our bodies like a balm neither of us wanted to clean away, and I let him keep me close, I craved his continued closeness. I cradled him in my arms, and let him bury his face in my chest and hold his arm around my waist like I was his, like he was mine even if it was only make believe. Even if in the morning, the fairy tale would end.
20
I didn’t know how this was supposed to go.
Normal college guys probably slept with a girl and tried to run out on her as quickly as they could. But I wasn’t most *s slipping into some girl’s place to f*ck her and leave. And Aly King was sure as hell not most girls. I’d lain next to her for a solid hour before I tried getting up. I managed it despite my large body tousling her on the mattress. Turns out, Aly sleeps like the dead.
The bathroom was obnoxiously small with a stand up shower I knew I’d never fit in and a pedestal sink I had to bend completely over to use. I hurried through my piss and cleaning my face, stealing a bit of her toothpaste to swish around in my mouth before I could make up my mind about leaving.
By the time I left that nothing bathroom, I’d almost decided leaving was probably the best decision, but then a step toward her on the bed, toward my clothes thrown across her dresser and the smell of her skin, the collection of our scents came right at me. It was better than Christmas cookies right out of the oven. To me, that smell was better than Bobby’s Sunday dinner roast.
That scent and the sight of her dead asleep with her wavy hair curled across her face, arm stretched over her head so that one dark nipple peeked out from that scratchy white sheet, had me paralyzed. It had me remembering what it felt like to be inside her. It reminded me that her mouth on my stomach, my skin between her teeth, had bashed away the biting voice that had kept me pathetic company for over a year.
Aly made me feel like I was alive. Aly just made me feel. How the hell could I walk away from that?
She didn’t move when I slipped to the foot of the bed or when I pulled back the sheets, exposing that perfect, round ass. Aly didn’t wake or try to get away from my fingers running along the curve of her ass, up to those two small dimples just below her waist. She only moaned, a sleepy, hungry sound when I ran my tongue up that sweet, perfect *.
She’d given me a taste last night, one that I’d craved since she took me over and I followed her lead. I wanted to thank her for silencing that bitter voice. But even more, I wanted to get lost in the taste of her, in the feel of her skin on my tongue.
So, I did.
She arched against my mouth as I feasted on her, letting my tongue dive deep, spreading her apart from behind slowly. Those sleepy sounds she made got louder the longer I ate her, the quicker I moved my tongue against that soft clit. And when I settled closer, when I brought my hand up her leg and moved it over my head to get deeper still, Aly’s voice lost that incoherent, sleepy tone completely.
Then, that sweet, fierce, beautiful woman started cursing like she was trying to invent a new language.
“Oh, ah… kòkòt mwen! Fuck, Ransom…f*ck, that modi is so…f*ck…”
Yes, it was and I didn’t stop, loving how soft, how damn warm she was, how she squeezed against my tongue, my fingers when I slipped two inside. I reached for that spot, exploring the tight contours, the ridges of her warm heat until I found it, until Aly pulled on my hair, until I pushed her closer with one hand under that supple ass and the other busy moving inside her.
And then, Aly shouted another list of filthy, erotic words and I felt her come in my mouth and took everything she gave me, riding the wave as I kept my lips and tongue on her, moving with her when she bucked her hips off the mattress.
She was tangy, she was delicious, still, it wasn’t enough and I began to think nothing ever would be, not with her, not ever again.
She kept her eyes closed, hand flat on her chest as she came down from her orgasm and I slipped behind her, rolling her boneless body against me until my dick slid between her cheeks. She felt good, soft and warm and so damn wet that slipping inside that tight * was easier than dancing, easier than breath and just as perfect, just as natural.
“Ransom,” she breathed, moving on my dick like it would feed her, like our bodies together was the end and beginning and she craved both.
“Look how you fit me, baby.” She did, like two pieces of a puzzle. The top of her head came to my chin, and her curled legs, that sweet round ass fit against me like her body had been made as my perfect parallel. Hand and glove, me and Aly. It was the same, perfectly the same. My thoughts only went as far as her slamming back against my dick as I took her, the feel of her clit under my fingertip when I reached around to touch her and how her skin tasted on my tongue when I kissed her shoulder. “This body was made for mine, Aly.”
I meant it then, not thinking what that would mean to her, if it would mean anything at all. The sensation numbed my mind, her beautiful skin, the soft texture of her hair, the smell of our sweat mixing together—that’s as far as my thoughts went. And when I pulled her up, urging her to her knees in front of me, even those thoughts left me.
“Ransom, anmourèz mwen,” she breathed, pushing back, not letting me control without doing a little demanding herself. God, how I loved that about her. Aly would not be manipulated and she f*cked me because she wanted me, she took me even though it was my hand on her hip, my fingers digging into her shoulder. “Harder, baby, do it harder.”