Page 66 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

My breaths are meant to be shared with hers.

Her little sighs and moans are just for me.

Fuck this poetic shit—my dick and her pussy were made for each other.

I recognize the scent of lavender and those flowers that I bought her on her skin, along with something earthy and sexy that I can’t picture or name, but I do recognize it. She’s right. It’s us. She’s wearing me on her skin, and it both awakens and satisfies some primal needto mark her as mine. I want to be all over her, inside her, on top of her, beneath her, beside her, around her. I want to inhale her so my lungs can bring her to every part of my body.

None of this can be expressed with words, only gripping hands and vigorous thrusts and caveman grunts.

Willa is a sleek, bouncing beauty. Panting, eyes closed, head thrown back, lost in whatever it is I’m making her feel as I drive up into her. I am definitely firing my trainer—this is the only abs workout I’ll ever need. I am relentless, and she is taking everything I give her, and it only turns me on more. Instead of staring at her tits, in order to keep from erupting, I stay fixated on the slender gold necklace. She is so damp from the shower and sweat that the little gold heart sticks to her skin, even though she’s experiencing extreme turbulence.

“Oh my God, Shane, don’t stop!”

“I’d fuck you like this forever if I could, baby.”

“Yes! Fuck me forever. Oh God!” Her entire body contracts, and then she comes apart in a screaming, wailing, cursing jumble of tremors and waves and convulsions. I try to watch for as long as I can because it’s so fucking beautiful, but feeling it happen all around my cock sends me right over the edge.

I see stars and the abyss and a flash memory of Willa’s smiling face when I first met her.

The guilt only lasts a second, because I mean—I’m coming—but it is not okay to picture a twelve-year-old girl during sex, even if you’re doing it with the grown-up version of her.

I might have to schedule another appointment with Dr. Shaw.

Willa is plastered to me, arms wrapped tight around my neck, still straddling me while we catch our breaths.

I already know that every time with her, it will be perfect, but I could do a million takes and never feel like I got it just right.

Because I didn’t get to be her first.

Because she wasn’t my first.

But if I can be her best and last, I might come close to showing her that it’s the first time that anything I’ve ever done with a woman has ever felt this good and real.

Fuck guilt.

I stroke the back of her head. “Tell me what you saw on my Mount of Venus.”

She pulls back and smiles. “You have a trident.”

“A trident?”

“Yeah. See?” She takes hold of my hand and points out a little fork indentation at the base of my thumb. “It’s a very lucky sign. It means you’ll find your true love,” she whispers.

I take her hand in mine. If someone had told me this even a month ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. Now I do. “What about you?” I flip her hand over so I can see her palm. “Do you have one too?” I have never wanted so badly to see a trident on someone’s Mount of Venus. The little lines at the base of her thumb are so faint. She sees me struggling to find what I’m looking for and curls her fingers inward a bit, making the lines more obvious.

And there it is.

A trident.

Right around the same place mine is at.

I place my hand over hers.

She rests her forehead against mine.

We’re so fucking cute, we might have to do something extra filthy really soon, but for now, I’m going to lift her hand to my lips and press a kiss to the back of her hand.

It’s worth the cheese to hear her sigh and see her blush and smile.