by Erin Noelle
Here and now hers to control, she rises only to descend, excruciatingly slow, taking all of me inside her. A tender, endless gasp escapes her, in tune with my own vehement groan. “Fucking perfect.” My voice catches as she internally tortures me, clenching around my girth with no mercy, releasing those tense muscles a moment then squeezing around my dick again, repetitively, blowing my mind and stealing all but my last shred of stamina.
This is right where I belong, the lapse in time and space where the world ceases to be and only she and I remain. She rides me, head thrown back, long, caramel curls brushing along my thighs, where her hands grip tight. I watch her graceful movements, my fingers forging deeper into the grooves of her hips. She thrives on top of me like a wave in the ocean, rocking forward with greedy force and building to her crest, then sighs as she denies herself, rolling her pelvis back just as a swell fades to a ripple. And right when I come up for air, catching my breath, along comes another wave of her body, over and again, prolonging the glorious denial. Sweet torment.
“Bry, Br…sweethe, I—”
“J,” I grunt, “English, baby.”
“I’m gonna…so close, Bryce!” she screams, her pitch deepening to a low, constant hum rumbling from her chest as she starts to quiver, coming on me…for me.
“Got you, babe.” I firm my hold on her hips and thrust manically, up into the snug clutch of her heat like a man crazed. My eyes roll back in my head as I join her in an explosive, harmonious release.
Adrift in peace that only she provides—sated, sweaty, and…happy—I hold her to me with relentless force, never wanting to let go. Her mouth puckers and blows out tiny puffs of air on my skin as she sleeps, but I battle against the same, wanting to bask in this afterglow of true contentment as long as possible.
She rustles, opening drowsy eyes that smile when they find mine. “I need to get up.”
“Why?” I squeeze her tighter.
She giggles and kisses my lips softly. “I live here, so I’m not escaping, frowny-face. I need to use the bathroom.” She wrestles out from underneath my hold, stretching her arm to the chair beside the bed. Sitting up on the edge, she slips on a satin robe before standing.
“Why are you covering up that body, babe? I was already hard waiting to watch you go,” I tease…except not at all teasing.
“What?” She glances over her shoulder with a sassy grin. “You don’t like it?” She looks at her silky attire and runs her hands over the robe enticingly. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been told pink is my color.” Her mouth turns down subtly the second the words escape; a faraway sadness ghosting across her eyes for a fleeting second before she quickly dismisses the thought away and fakes a smile.
A surge of nausea consumes me, a shiver elicited with the chill that creeps up my spine, the unfair devil of irony dousing me in frigid shame and guilt.
It’s her—my Jocelyn—was Devon’s…fascination, his ‘I hope she feels the same.’
I just made love to the woman my little brother never even got a chance to ask on a date.
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