Page 22 of Accidentally Engaged
“I’ve never done things there. With anyone. But I want to do that with you.”
“I’ve never done that, either. We can have that be our special first.”
“Oh, God, yes. I love that idea, but for now... I like when you touch me there.”
“I’ll touch any part of you. You feel like you were made for me.” I bend down, resting my weight against her smaller back, my forearm easily resting beside hers, my hand covering hers as we press into the mattress together. “You fit with me like two—”
“Pieces of a puzzle.”
“Exactly.” Or a perfect hole for a particular peg, I think, as her walls begin to twitch and pump around me more steadily, quickening the pace as I stay deep inside of her. I’m buried to the hilt, my face resting against the cloud of long, silky hair that fans over her back and falls over her shoulder. “My beautiful rose.” I’m not good at poetry, but that’s how I suddenly see her, a creamy white rose that still has that tinge of green—so wild and beautiful, so perfect.
Chloe tilts her head and pants against my not-so-muscular bicep, dragging her teeth against it before she bites down softly. “My bear,” she moans.
The bear and the rose. We’re a fairy tale. The simple, lonely man and the beautiful princess, or maybe the forest enchantress.
“I don’t want this to end,” I whisper.
“It’s hard not to come when I’m so full and you feel so good inside of me,” Chloe whimpers.
“Not that. Okay, yes, that, but I meant this. You and me.”
“It can’t unless you deny my offer. Or one of us dies.”
Mental note to start eating more vegetables and watch my cholesterol. I think about the benefits of having Chloe in my life and realize I have a new way to work out, hopefully several times a week, so that’s good.
“You don’t want me to let you go?” I ask, bringing my free hand around to smooth down from her swaying breasts, over her soft belly, and on between her thighs. She’s soaking still, wetter than before. I can feel her throbbing, feeling her stretching around me.
“No. I want to stay.”
Maybe it’s not the most erotic phrase, but it sets off all my bells and whistles. She wants to stay. With me. She wants me after all. I barely pull free before I erupt like a geyser.
To my delight (and kind of horror), Chloe screeches and pushes herself back onto my still-hard cock moving frantically on me to capture her final orgasm.
“Chloe!” I gasp, feeling one last spurt empty inside of her.
She just looks back over her shoulder at me and smirks. “That escalated quickly.”
I hasten to reassure her. “I’m not complaining.”
“Me, either. But Iamstarving.”
“Showers and spaghetti?”
Chloe sighs and collapses, curling up in my bed. “Yes, please.” I look at her, all flushed and naked, pink spaces on her shoulders marked by beard burn and reddened thighs where our skin rubbed together, and the hint of white between her deep pink folds that shows I was inside of her—and that a little part of me still is.
“You’re beautiful. You shower first,” I say, fumbling for my never-used blue terry cloth bathrobe.
Chloe slowly sits up, a dimly glowing goddess in the dark. “We’re still going to have spaghetti and chocolate cake, right?”
“Of course! And tomorrow we can go thrifting. I bet you know the hot spots. Or we could go visit the campus botanical center.”
She stares at me. “We had sex.”
My stomach chills. “W-what’s that matter? I want to do a million things with you, not just that. I’m not like that. I didn’t make the fancy dinner to get you into bed. I... I made it to impress you. So you’d want to—”
Chloe flies from the bed—maybe literally—and plants her mouth on mine, her legs and arms wrapping around me. “You spoil me. I’m glad you heard my song after all.”
Hazards of Being a Banshee:
