I pull her shirt up and off, and flick the clasp at her bra so it falls away, and we’re skin to heated skin.
And there are no words. We don’t need them. Our hands speak for us—desperate and holding. Our tongues show our wet worship and our eyes speak our confession—our adoration for each other.
When we’re completely bare, I slide down Sarah’s body, sucking at her peaked, pink nipples. Her back arches and her legs spread and I slide lower, kissing and licking her pussy until she’s whimpering and writhing on the bed and tugging at my hair. Then I slip back up to her, face to face. Her fingers spread across my cheek, holding me close as she kisses me with all she is and gives me all she has.
I dip my hand between her legs and I moan into her mouth when I feel how wet she is, so tight and sweet. And then it’s not my fingers tracing her lower lips, opening her—it’s the hard, full head of my cock. I use it to spread her wetness, to rub her clit, and when I know she can’t stand a moment more, when she needs to feel me every bit as desperately as I ache for her, I take myself in hand and press inside her.
I groan at the sensation of her impossible snugness. At the sucking, greedy clamping of her pussy clenching at the head of my cock. Breathing raggedly, I withdraw. I glance up at Sarah’s face. Her eyes are lowered, watching with panting breaths as I push into her again, further this time. And she moans, longingly, deeply, hungrily.
I feel her nails dig into my arms and her hips rise, needing more. Needing everything.
I press my cock into her tightness again, this time not stopping. Smoothly, gently, I push forward, sliding in.
I don’t ask if she’s all right; I watch her beautiful face, her closed eyes, smooth and unflinching as she absorbs every sensation.
And fuck, the sensations are overwhelming. She closes in around me, muscles wet and gripping, cradling me inside her.
With my elbows on the bed, I hover above her, nose to nose, breath to breath. And then I pull back my hips, and thrust hard and quick—so I’m fully, gloriously buried.
Sarah’s mouth opens on a short cry, her neck arching. I slant my mouth across hers, swallowing her moans, licking her lips and sucking her tongue. And then Sarah opens her eyes and they shine with joy and heat and aching desire.
She licks her lips and runs her fingers through my hair.
“You’re inside me,” she whispers against my mouth, and it’s almost too much. “You’re inside me, Henry.”
I nod helplessly. Then I twine our fingers together and raise our hands over her head. And then, pressing my mouth to Sarah’s, kissing her like it’s the end of the world, I move.
Steady and gentle, I roll my hips around and around, rubbing her clit with my lower pelvis near the base of my cock. She moves with me, her hips rising and circling.
And it’s so fucking beautiful. So fucking right.
Anything that came before is nothing. This is all that matters. This brave, stunning girl in my arms is all I will ever need.
My mind goes weightless and my body takes over. Circles turn to thrusts, harder than before, her slick pussy and keening moans make me crazed. Sarah clenches at my arse, pushing me deeper.
“Henry,” she gasps, her fingers sliding up and grasping onto my shoulder blades with a fraught urgency. “Henry.”
I wrap my arms under and around her, pulling her closer, letting her know I’ve got her.
“That’s it, love. That’s it,” I croon. “You’re going to come, you’re going to come right around my cock. That’s my love.”
My hips don’t stop moving, rubbing against her, thrusting deep inside her.
And when that perfect, sobbing, blissful cry erupts from her lips moments later, when she presses her temple against my cheek and goes taut and stiff because the pleasure is wracking her body and it’s too intense to move . . .
That’s when I let myself go. I bury my face in Sarah’s neck and pump hard and quick—and then I’m filling her, coming in powerful pulses that reduce my voice to grunts and groans, and my heart to a pounding wreck that belongs to this girl alone.
After, I lift my head and feel the caress of her hand against my ribs. I kiss her lips and her nose and wipe the tears that leak from the corners of her eyes.
And Sarah looks into my eyes and whispers, “I love you, Henry.”
And it’s the most perfect moment of my life.
“We didn’t use anything.”
Probably not the most romantic post-coital thing I’ve ever said. But condoms are the golden rule of royal intercourse, and this is the first time I’ve broken it.
Sarah nods against my chest, where she rests her head.
“I know.”
“It’s my fault. I should’ve thought of it.”
“I could’ve thought of it too. I was a virgin, not an idiot.”
“I’ve been tested; you don’t have to worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
I turn on my side so I can see her eyes. “What are you thinking right now?”
“It’s the wrong time of my cycle for a baby. But, I read once that there’s a word for people who only use the rhythm method for birth control.”
“What’s the word?’
“Parents.” Sarah grins.
I chuckle, then blow out a breath and look back at the ceiling. “I would be okay if you were pregnant. I mean . . . it wouldn’t be ideal in the grand scheme of things, my grandmother would shit a brick and it would make the ridiculousness that can be my life even more chaotic. But I would take care of you. And I would be all right with it . . . happy, excited even. Is that insane?”