Page 91 of While the Sun Shines

Drew picks her up, lifting her with a hand beneath her thighs. She laughs again, lays her arms across his shoulders, and leans down to kiss him.

“Your room,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Mine?”

“Yeah, you’ve got your own bathroom,” she says and he laughs and puts a hand on top of her head to make sure she doesn’t get smacked on the doorframe, and oh thank fucking God he washed his sheets. Took a chance on this. On her.

He sets Penny on his bed and she plucks at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up. He grabs it by the back of the neck and shucks it off and those are her fingers on his stomach, her palms sliding over his chest, and her nails following until goosebumps stand up like a second layer of freckles.

And then she slips a finger into the waistband of his pants. Pulls at his belt, slipping the strap from beneath the keeper and unbuckling it.

“Pen,” he whispers as she unzips his pants, his hands fumbling to open the button and push his boxers down.

“Wow,” she says. “You really do have freckles everywhere.”

He laughs. Blushes.

Gasps as she leans forward, her hand wrapped around his cock, and her mouth warm and wet.

This is—oh this is amazing. Like something out of a fantasy, his hands in her hair, holding it back for her, her mouth sliding up his cock, tongue working over him. Better, though, for being real. For not existing only as a thought he tries to push away but happening right fucking now, pleasure singing through his stomach and heat building over his skin.

“Is that good? Yeah?” she asks, her hand pumping over him.

He can’t look. But no, he has to because he can’t jerk his eyes away, the thumb she traces up his length, the shudder that wracks through him. “No, not okay. I’m going to die.”

She kisses the tip of his cock. Smiles at him and with hot breath on his skin, murmurs, “That’s really too bad. You won’t even get to try your pie.”

“W-what pie?”

“Strawberry rhubarb.”

“Fucking shit, Pen,” he groans as she slides her mouth around him. “No, no, no, wait, okay? Just—oh—wait.”

He steps back. Nearly trips over his pants caught around his knees and she laughs.

He kicks his pants off. Boxers too, shoving them away. There, that’s better. And even more so that she’s lifting her own shirt over her head. Reaching behind her back to open her bra, her breasts filling the cups before they loosen and then it’s gone, following his clothes to their pile on the floor. Her hands opening her pants, her hips lifting—he helps her, tugging at her jeans and she laughs again, squirms out of her panties and he tosses them behind himself.

Yeah, so much fucking better. Penny, laid out on his bed, her bottom lip between her teeth, her weight propped on her elbows, grinning up at him as he stands over her.

She’s gorgeous. Her breasts peeking through the fall of her dark hair, her thighs spread, her hand trailing over her stomach. What a goddamn sight. What a goddamn day it’s been. And what a goddamn woman she is.

“I love you,” he says.

“Good.”

“Like, a lot.”

“Even better.” She crooks her finger to urge him closer. “I love you too.”

“Yeah?” He slides his hand up her ankle, over the toned length of her calf. Touches the softness at the back of her knee, tickling lightly when it makes her smile, and smooths his palm up the curve of her thigh. Slow, he thinks. They have all night. But she rests her leg on his shoulder and oh hell, haven’t they waited long enough for each other?

“Yeah,” she says as he kneels on the very edge of his mattress.

He kisses her instep. Sets her other foot flat on the bed, presses her knee to lean outward. Draws a finger up her inner thigh and slips it inside her and oh, she’s so wet. Warm and slick and when he traces up to her clit, she bites her lip, her hips shifting against the bed.

Slowly, he pushes his cock into her. Sucks in a breath and shit she feels so good. Perfect in a way he couldn’t have ever even begun to imagine because nothing, nothing at all that he could’ve dreamed up, could compare to her spread out on his bed, smiling up at him. All night, he thinks again. All week, all month, the year ahead of them. Years.

“A lot, a lot, a lot,” he whispers, drawing nearly out of her and pushing back in.