Page 29 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“Yes. Like fucking perfection.” His hands reached under my legs to pull me closer to him, and I gasped when his tongue slid inside me before returning to the small, humming bundle of nerves and flicking it lightly, electrifying my entire body.
I closed my eyes, letting the rapturous pressure build. “Oh my God, it feels like the first time. In your truck. Remember?”
“Are you kidding?” He slid a finger into my slick, swollen wetness. “I jerk off to that memory all the time.” When I moaned, a second finger joined the first, twisting so they pushed moved against some secret place in my body only Nick had ever been able to find. What miraculous relief to be with someone who knew the terrain of my body inside and out, who remembered all its hidden pleasure spots. He sucked my clit greedily as his fingers worked me into a frenzy, and I rocked my hips against his mouth, panting loudly. Jesus, it had been so long…it really did feel like my first time, and oh, my, God—“Yes!” I flattened my palms on the counter. My insides were seizing up, clenching his fingers, and my head dropped to one side, my face contorting with pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Oh my God oh my God oh my God, he’s so fucking good, and I haven’t felt this way in forfuckingever, and my body is on fire, and I’m going to come so hard right here on his goddamn island, and then he’s going to fuck me on it…
Knowing it would be just moments until Nick was inside me again finally sent me over the edge, and
I cried out as the orgasm tore through my body with powerful, rhythmic surges that throbbed around his fingers and pulsed against his tongue. I savored every lingering aftershock, open-mouthed and gasping.
The second my body relaxed, Nick straightened up. “Don’t move.”
Before I could protest, he raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Propping myself up on my elbows, I nearly called out to him to forget the condom, I was on the pill, but I bit my lip instead. It was smarter to use the condom. Even when we were a couple we’d used them, terrified of my getting pregnant.
We’d only done it three times without one, all on the same night.
Our wedding night.
My stomach flipped as I heard Nick bounding down the stairs. Half a second later he appeared in the kitchen, shirtless and messy-haired and unbelievably gorgeous, condom in hand.
“Let me.” Sitting all the way up, I took it from him, tore it open and slid it over his swollen cock within five seconds.
It was like no time had passed.
Yet it was like we’d never done this before.
Spreading my knees wide, I inhaled sharply when he grabbed me by the hips and slid in, deep and slow. “Yes,” I whispered, grabbing his shoulders as he began to move, his hips undulating lazily between my legs. “Yes, like that.”
“Tell me you’ve thought about this.” Nick’s voice was deep and gravelly.
“Oh God, I have. I do. All the time.”
“Yeah?” His fingers dug into my flesh as he rocked into me, his movements unhurried but steady. “About my cock inside you?”
“Yes.” I squeezed my eyes shut, appreciating every thick, hard inch of him gliding in and out of my body. “All the time.”
“You miss the way I fuck you. My mouth on you. My hands on you. All the ways I make you come.”
“Yes,” I whimpered, the tempest swirling inside me again.
“Tell me.” He began to move faster, driving into me harder and deeper. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I miss the way you fuck me.” My toes pointed. “Your mouth on me. Your hands.” My nails dug into his shoulders. “Your cock. I miss it inside me.” Barely able to speak, I gasped when his hands slid beneath my ass and he lifted me off the island. “All the ways you make me come,” I panted. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tilting my hips to take him deeper. “All the ways…you make me come.” Nick cursed and held me tight to his body, grinding me against him so the base of his cock rubbed my clit. “Oh, God, do it, Nick. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”
Clutching him to me, I buried my face in the curve of his neck, sighing long and hard as the shimmering waves of my second orgasm paralyzed me with pleasure. He groaned as I grew even wetter, stumbling through everything he’d thrown on the floor, and slamming my back into the refrigerator door. Pounding into me hard and fast, he cursed and grit his teeth, fucking me against the heavy stainless steel appliance so violently the entire thing shook. Reaching over my head, I hooked my fingers over the top of the fridge and held on for dear life—my back would be bruised to hell tomorrow. We both cried out as his orgasm peaked, his cock swelling and throbbing deep inside me. I clenched my core muscles around him, desperate to feel every twitch and tremor in his body.
Desperate to cling to the physical intensity between us rather than the e
motional.
Desperate to think of some way to convince myself that what we were doing was OK.
Desperate to suppress the wellspring of romantic hope beginning to bubble up inside me.
I can’t love him again.
I can’t.
And I won’t.
