Free Good Vibrations (Welcome to Paradise) by S. L. Scott Page B

time.
    He slides a hand down my arm gently taking my hand in his and leads me toward the open glass door. I willingly follow him. I would probably follow him anywhere right now. My mind is weak and my body is strong when we’re together. We make no sense, but right now we are the only logical conclusion that exists in a world of problems.
    Leading me to the couch, we sit, the silence starting to weigh on my heart. Evan strokes my cheek acting as if it is meaningless, but I know his gentle touches give him away. He may be a bastard, but he’s not heartless.
    He leans toward my exposed neck, tasting just the edge of my earlobe before slowly pushing me back onto the couch. I kiss him, feeling relaxed, knowing this is right as my traitorous heart opens up to the one person who battered it without care just two days ago.
    Our kisses become eager, our tongues mingling together and are bodies anxious for more. His hands slide to the hem of his shirt and he pulls it off while giving me a look I would normally view as lust, but it’s different somehow. This is him caring. Standing up, he takes his jeans off, confident in our silent agreement. He drops something on the coffee table then pulls me to my feet.
    I mimic his actions, leaving me equally exposed and vulnerable. After sliding my panties off to up the ante, I lay down on the couch under the covers. Without losing eye contact, he slides his briefs down his legs and joins me under the covers. “I want you, Mallory.” His breathing deepens as he hovers over me.
    My breath staggers, my heart finding instant relief from hearing his voice again. It’s smooth and strong and has an authoritativeness to it. He makes me want to obey though he didn’t give any orders. I lie back and get to the point. “Take me then.”
    His hand moves between my legs and my head pushes back into the pillow, enjoying the way he touches me, the way his touch owns my body. A finger swirls, making me moan then disappears. He reaches to the table, and then I see the condom in his hand, the wrapper being ripped open. Turning to the side, he rolls it on then repositions himself above me. The couch is small and uncomfortable, but perfect for us to reconnect.
    As he kisses me, his hand appreciates my breasts. I squirm beneath him, my body responsive to this pleasant torture. He smirks knowing the sexual devastation he’s delivering as he eases into me.
    Not able to control my reaction, I moan again, louder this time. His hand covers my mouth, and he whispers, “Shhhh.” It’s a reminder of my best friend who is sleeping in the next room. He tilts my head back and takes the opportunity to kiss my neck, working me with his tongue and caressing lips. I feel his stubble against my skin, scratching me, marking me as his even if only temporarily. Shifting to put his weight onto his arms, he raises his body higher to look at where we’re joined as I enjoy the wonderful ease of his movements.
    “God, Mallory.” His own moan is low and anguished and so breathtakingly beautiful.
    My hips move to meet his. I lean up to see where our bodies are joined, but it’s too much. The feelings overwhelming me, so I drop back down.
    “I’m sorry. I won’t last,” he says, the words not matching the plea in his tone.
    Why is he apologizing? Aren’t we achieving the purpose of the act? Isn’t this the reason we’re doing this—to orgasm? Oh! Sudden realization strikes. I guess we won’t be and that’s what the apology is for, but for some reason, that just doesn’t matter. He feels too good to worry about such details.
    His hand lowers to my sex and I can tell he’s holding himself back to try to please me. I tug his hand away, causing him to look up then shake my head.
    He’s not a selfish lover. He’s proven that to me before. I’ll take that he’s so turned on that he’ll peak faster than he likes as a compliment and a huge boost for my ego. So I’ll trade my orgasm for one ego boost this round