Page 38 of Bad Bunny
The realization hits me, hot and heavy, equal parts mortifying and impossible to ignore.
“Do you sense it now? The bond?” I ask, embarrassed by the desperation in that question. I might as well be in fifth grade, passing him a note that readsdo you like me? Mark the box yes or no.
He smiles at me. A small smile tinged with sadness. “I always feel it when I’m with you, Nora. I can’t help it.”
Every nerve lights with those words. Hope, desire, even fear, flare to life. It’s like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down at an abyss and wanting to jump.
“What if,” I say in my smallest voice, “I feel it too?”
He stills. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I breathe out. Gathering my courage, my strength.
“What if…I want to touch you?” I ask him, my voice wavering.
He turns to me fully then, his eyes burning in the dim light. His hands lift toward me before falling back to the bed, like he’s forcing himself not to reach.
“It is not wise,” he says in a strained whisper.
“I know,” I say, as I roll onto my elbow and close the distance between us. My hand comes up to cup his cheek, rough with stubble, warm beneath my palm.
“Nora.” My name is a whispered plea. A warning.
I kiss him anyway.
One kiss.
It ignites between us like striking a match over dry kindling. Blazes into an inferno.
Sorren makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. In one smooth motion, without breaking the kiss, he flips us so my back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over me.
I may have started the kiss, but once we make contact Sorren is fully in charge. His hand cradles the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair. I tilt my jaw, and he deepensthe kiss, his tongue moving over mine in smooth sure strokes. I moan into his mouth, already warm in my core, already thinking of the next steps.
My hand traces over his back, strong muscles that shift and move, and down to his ass. When I grip it and press my body up to his, Sorren groans. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says, his voice low and husky.
I wiggle out of the sheets tangled around my legs and hook my leg around the back of his calf. I pull on his leg, and he collapses onto me, his body heavy and warm but not suffocating.
“Nora,” he pants against my neck, and I can feel him hardening against my thigh. So maybe his anatomy will work with mine? To test it, I push into his erection, and he groans again, louder this time. His hand comes to my breast, kneading through the fabric of my shirt, and it’s good but not enough.
I half sit, pushing him away in the motion. He watches with hungry eyes as I rip off my shirt, followed by my bra. I take his shirt off next and am instantly obsessed with the perfection of his chest. The clean outline of muscle beneath warm skin, the scattered soft curl of chest hair. He’s male in a way that makes something deep in my belly clench.
I pull him back down on top of me. This time, when his hand comes to my breast, it’s skin on skin and absolutely sinful. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I cry out, arching into him. He circles one nipple, then the other, and I grind against his thigh to the rhythm of his hands.
I’m wet between my legs already, ready and aching. His mouth lowers and glides along my jaw, my neck, and down to my breast. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, hot and wet, and flicks the tip with his tongue. I practically levitate off the mattress.
“Oh, yes,” I tell him, beg him. “More.”
He rumbles against my skin and repeats the motion. This time it’s harder. His teeth tighten, and that strike of his tongue against my sensitive nipple is almost punishing. I love it. I moan louder, wrap both legs around his pelvis and pull until he settles between my legs, his erection between us, perfectly aligned with my core.
He thrusts into me, instinctive and sharp, a quick motion, and we both groan. The sound is a mixture of desire and frustration.
Why does clothing separate us? Why is he not already inside me?
Logic has fled my mind. I’m working on pure instinct, and I can tell Sorren is too. He works my breast as his hand comes down to slip under the waistband of my pants. I shift to give him better access, wanting nothing more than to have him touch methere. Right there.
This is going fast, and I couldn’t care less.
I want it all. Right now. With him.
