Page 74 of Hold the Pickle
I gasp as he moves, sending a cascade of pleasure up my body. I see sparks in the dark, maybe those hormones he once talked about. I clutch his back, my knees brushing his elbows as he holds himself over me.
Forget what I said before. This is the part I never want to end. It’s so easy, so glorious, utterly perfect. Tears squeeze from my eyes. This is Dalton. Dalton and me. How we work together on the most intimate level.
His lips brush my forehead. I hadn’t expected the tenderness, although I should have known. The cats. His mom. His job. He cares. A lot. He’s not like the MMA fighters, and maybe even kinder than Max.
My chest expands and I wonder if there will be room here for actual love.
Then Dalton speeds up and all the soft thoughts are obliterated as my body responds. God, he’s got me, and I’m utterly rapt at his every move.
The center of me quivers around him, and I know it’s coming again. Again? Has it ever happened twice for me?
He moves his hand between us, fingers circling my most sensitive spot.
The intensity leaps to a new level. I squeeze my eyes shut, my chin in the air. My back arches as the orgasm takes over. I’m full of light, expanding, drawing in the universe.
I vaguely hear myself crying his name, lost in the pleasure overtaking every part of my body.
Dalton draws it out, plunging into me, working my clit, his mouth near my ear. He’s saying my name, over and over. “Nadia, Nadia.” There’s a desperate note in it that clutches at my heart.
I hold him tightly, collapsing his arms to bring his chest to mine. We slow down as the stars fall around us, the room going quiet, breathing returning to its regular cadence.
He slips to the side and draws me to him, pulling my leg over his hips. We don’t quite separate, not yet, and I feel him twitching inside me.
He presses my head to his chest. We lie there for long moments, his heartbeat a gentle thud against my cheek.
This changes everything, I realize. Will I sleep beside him? No more air mattress? No distance?
Does everything shift from his and mine toours? The storage, the space, the fridge?
I’m overthinking it. I clear my head so that I might relax in his arms.
He kisses my hair again, and it might be my favorite thing that he does. A warm glow rises in me. There is no need to think beyond this moment.
But then a quietmewpierces the dark.
Then another.
We try to ignore it, but then it becomes a chorus.
Both of our bellies shake with the effort of not laughing.
“Is it your turn or mine?” I ask.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
“I’ll help.”
And so we slide apart, searching for our clothes. Dalton discards the condom in a Kleenex.
No matter what happens with the bed situation or how we view being roommates after this, the kitty parenting duties are definitelyours.
24
DALTON
I’m never sure exactly what tipped Nadia and me into this new relationship, but I don’t question it.
The next two weeks are nothing short of perfect. The kittens get stronger. The mama cat takes over the feedings. They all learn how to use the litter box. And the end of every shift finds me home with Nadia, never too tired to strip her naked and have my way with her.
