Free Rekindle by Ashley Suzanne, Melissa Gill, Tiffany Fox Page A

his neck, just below his ear, scraping my teeth over the sensitive flesh. 
    “Fuck it,” he responds, finishing the job of freeing himself.  Palming his cock, I stroke as he gently thrusts his hips into my hand.  Rising on my tiptoes, I align him at my sex and slowly take Nick inside me.  The burn is almost too much to bear, but I remember—I remember exactly how good he feels when he’s fully seated.  The way his body works with mine.  The way I respond to him almost immediately.
    “God,” I moan, slowly moving myself up and down his cock until my wetness provides enough ease for me to completely sit.  When he’s as far as he can go, I pause, continuing to place kisses on his neck and across the top of his chest. 
    Shoving his hand back in my hair, he pulls tightly, painfully, wonderfully.  With my head back, his tongue finds the center of my throat and licks a path up to my lips.  And then he kisses me.
    A kiss I’ll never forget.  No longer angry, no longer battling for control, no longer frustrated, our lips meld together like they did another lifetime ago.  For a moment, no matter how brief, my Nick’s back and he’s loving me like he would have before everything went to shit.  And for this brief moment, I’m going to live here and only here.

CHAPT ER NINE
    NICK
    I have no fucking idea what’s going on.  One minute I’m going back up to Tina’s apartment to see if she wants to grab dinner with me, Martinez and Jones, and the next I’m in her bathroom and we’re fucking on the toilet.  How … I can’t even explain it.  But do I really have to?  Should I be questioning anything when I have a gorgeous woman, one who is so tight I’d find it hard to believe she’s been with anyone else since we divorced, slowly grinding on my dick?
    Nope.  I’m going with it.  If only for tonight, I’m taking the metaphorical bull by the horns and am going to fuck it stupid.
    With Christina still impaled on my dick, I rise and carefully walk with her wrapped around my waist to the bedroom.  Cautiously, I kneel on the lone mattress, thanking God I’ve been putting in extra hours at the gym to keep from screwing bar bitches and getting some strange strand of herpes. I rear back, staring at all the beauty before me.
    Nothing about her has changed.  I watch her dilated pupils scan my body, approval shining through and if possible, my cock gets even harder.  Slightly pulling out of her warm depths, I wait a moment and roughly thrust, her tits shaking with the force and her bottom lip automatically going between her teeth.  Just like she always did.
    For so long, every time I witnessed this exact scene, it was always a memory taking place of a fantasy.  And now that it’s real—tangible—I’m not ready for it to end, but I’m pretty sure if she mews one more time, or grabs at my hips to pull me deeper again, I’m going to break apart. 
    “Nick.  Please,” she cries, her walls clamping down on my dick.  Rolling my eyes back in my head, I think of anything else possible. 
    Mack’s dirty socks in his locker.  Mrs. Crandall walking around outside without a bra.  Signing my divorce papers.  Hemingway licking Mrs. Crandall’s cat’s ass.
    Nothing.  Just like every other time I’ve wanted to prevent myself from coming like a teenager, nothing works and all I can focus on is the softness my dick’s buried inside of and the sexy woman staring up at me, begging me for more.  Who am I to deny her?
    Resting on my calves, I slowly, almost torturously slow, thrust in and out of her tight body, my orgasm on the brink and hers not too far off, either.  Cupping her perfectly shaped tits in each hand, I manipulate her nipples with my fingers and squeeze just enough to have her squirming and arching herself into me, desperately trying to get closer and find her release. 
    “Fuck,” I growl, slowing my pace even more to make this last just a little while longer.  Once she realizes she’s