Page 82 of IRL: In Real Life
Her whole body tightened and shattered over my hand with a broken gasp, thighs clamping around my hips while her pussy pulsed around my fingers, squeezing and releasing like it had a mind of its own. I held her through all of it, my thumb slowing on her clit just enough not to push her straight into pain while she trembled against me.
She came hard, quiet at first, her body pulling tight around my fingers before the breath left her in broken little sounds. By the time it eased, she had gone soft and heavy in my arms in a way that did something dangerous to my chest.
For a second, all she did was breathe.
So did I.
Hard.
I rested my forehead against hers and kept my fingers inside her one beat longer than necessary, mostly because the feel of her still pulsing around them was going to haunt me either way, and I was weak enough to want one more second of it.
Then I slid my fingers out, and her mouth opened on a small, frustrated sound so sweet it almost took me out. For one reckless second, all I could think about was grabbing her hips and settling her down on all this dick just to hear what kind of sound came next.
I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t.
The cabin was full of our breathing while Talia fixed her dress with slow, unsteady hands and slid back into her seat. I sat there trying to will my dick down on discipline alone, then scrubbed a hand over my face and caught the scent of her sweet pussy on my fingers.
Shit.
“You good?” I asked, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She let out a breath that sounded halfway to a laugh. “No.”
That almost got me smiling.
Almost.
But when I looked over and saw how dazed she still was, how dark her amber eyes had gone, how passion still sat in them plain as day, I started the Benz, then cut it right back off before I put us in gear.
“I’m sorry if that moved too fast,” I said. “I wanted?—”
She turned toward me fully.
“No.”
Her voice came out lower than usual, almost raspy from arousal.
“I wanted that as much as you.”
I nodded once, pulled my breathing back where it belonged, and drove.
The rest of the drive to her place went quieter. Full. Charged. The kind of quiet that made every breath feel too loud and every red light feel personal.
By the time I pulled up in front of her townhouse, I was still hard enough to hate myself a little and disciplined enough to keep it to myself.
I walked her to her door.
The night had gone quieter around us. Her heels sounded soft against the path. Her perfume kept catching in the breeze, and every few steps my mind replayed the sound she’d made when she came on my fingers and threatened to drag me right back to where we’d been.
At her door, I kissed her gently, nothing like what had happened in the Benz and nowhere near what I still wanted. It was just enough to feel her mouth once more, to leave her with the truth of how badly I wanted her without asking her to carry the weight of it yet.
I could have pressed then. Asked to come in. Let the night finish what it had started.
But I knew better.
Wanting her less had nothing to do with it. I wanted more, and more deserved more than me crossing that threshold with my mind half gone and my body ready to make all the decisions. Her first real time with me deserved intention. Space. A bed. My hands on her with nothing rushed around us. Her body spread open beneath me because she chose it, not because the night got too hot and found the nearest place to burn.
If I went inside, I was going to fuck her properly.
