Page 147 of Dream House
I blink twice and press up so I can meet his gaze. “How?”
“When you do that.”
“Do what?”
He tilts his hips just a fraction, and, I swear, every muscle south of my belly button does themerengue.Pleasure is wrung out of every cell.
“Aah. Mmm.”Lark’s lips press together hard, and through eyes at half-mast, I watch him blink a few times. “That.”
I press up higher, bracing my forearms against his chest but keeping our bellies connected. My mons presses deliciously into his pubic bone.
I grind down and stars explode before my eyes. “Th-that?”
“Gah—”
His hands grip my ass, and this is not the gentle attention he gave my thighs earlier. His fingers dig into my flesh, and he thrusts up. My clit meets him full force, and inside me, his length finds a place of such sublime meaning, I lose all control.
“Oh, yes—” My words are little more than quaking breath. But it doesn’t matter because Lark understands perfectly. Either that or he has as little control as I do and all either of us can manage is to thrust and thrust again.
I have the fleeting thought that I truly hope it feels as good for him as it does for me because this has to be shared. I can’t be the only human on earth to know this rapture. But judging by the clenching of his jaw, the clamping of his hands on my ass, and the power of each drive into me, it has to be good. Mind-shatteringly good. World re-definingly good. Life-alteringly good.
Every thrust is a new height, a new stratosphere of heaven. And I must be climbing higher because the way I’m panting, oxygen is scarce. And I don’t care. Every inch of my body tingles. Every place where our bodies connect is dear.
Lark is so dear.
The truth of it is a revelation. The man sharing this moment with me is both so incredibly strong and so preciously mortal. For all he is and all he can do, he can also be hurt. His life is a sacred moment, and I want to bear witness to it.
Our eyes lock, and something passes between us that I can only decode in part.
He is meant to be loved. I am meant to love him.
I know there’s more to this divine secret, but before I can puzzle it out, the ecstasy of his thrusting takes over, commanding all of my muscles, foreshortening all of my breath.
And I am consumed.
Fully. Body and soul. Swallowed up whole in the bliss of this moment.
A moment that is made even more absolute because I get to watch Lark as he is overtaken.
And, my God. He is so beautiful.
I am floating, spiraling, soaring, and then his arms wrap around my back, and he’s crushing me to him, both of us chasing our breath, chests heaving, limbs trembling.
And I can’t help it. I laugh.
I’m in his arms, completely spent. Broken down and rebuilt like I never knew, and I am laughing like never before.
“Wh-what?” he asks, shaking with his own hilarity.
My only response is more laughter. How can I put into words that this is happiness in action?
I lift up to look at Lark. Laughter enhances his beauty a thousand-fold. His eyes shine. His broken-open smile is rocket fuel.
He reaches up and swipes a thumb at the corner of my eye. It’s only then I realize my lashes are wet.
Oh, jeez.
“You okay?” His voice is soft like worn denim.
