FORTY ARABELLA

FORTY

Arabella

ALL ANGRY, frustrated thoughts involving my parents—specifically my mother—flee from my brain the moment Rowan puts his hands on my naked body. He became the only thing I could focus on. The only one I wanted. I’m lying crushed beneath him on the bed as he kisses me along my neck, nibbling and licking me there, and I have my hands in his soft hair, wishing I would’ve taken his shirt off before we fell onto the bed.

I’m desperate to feel his skin on mine.

Impatient, I shove at the shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, and he lifts away from me, hurriedly taking it off and tossing it on the floor before he resumes kissing my neck. I race my hands all over his back, his shoulders. Along his sides. Slip my fingers beneath the waistband of his pants, wishing those were gone too.

I want him as naked as I am.

No one makes me feel as good, as whole, as Rowan does. He was so sweet earlier, trying his hardest to comfort me and it worked.

He was all I needed. Everything I wanted. And when he unzipped my dress, I could feel his restraint. His uncertainty. He settled his big, warm hands on my hips, and I knew.

This is what I wanted to help me take my mind off my troubles.

“You have condoms, right?” I’m just making sure because oh my God, I can’t wait anymore. If he says no, I am willing to be reckless and let him inside me without one. He can pull out. I just had my period the week before so I should be good. Right?

He lifts his head from my neck, his hand settling on my right breast. “Yeah.”

A shiver streaks down my spine at the rough sound of his voice. And when he lowers his head, his lips brushing against my distended nipple, I cry out, curling my fingers into his hair. Holding him close.

I wish I didn’t ever have to let him go.

Rowan rains kisses all over my body, his hands everywhere. Curving around my breasts, along my waist, my hips. Fingers brushing between my thighs, testing me. I’m soaked, I can hear his fingers sliding up and down, circling my clit. One thick finger presses inside me. I close my eyes, holding my breath, my stomach constricting, skin tightening in anticipation of him moving within me.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, Bells,” he murmurs when he lifts away from me, his fingers still working their magic between my thighs.

I decide I can’t lie. “I want you.”

When I open my eyes, I find him watching me, his hair mussed, his lids heavy, his lips parted. He’s handsome. Gorgeous. And all mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

“I want you too,” he murmurs, shifting back up over me, our gazes locking. He dips his head, his hungry mouth settling on mine, and I open up to him, reaching between us and fumbling with the front of his pants. Once I’ve got the button undone, I tug on the zipper, diving my hand inside and brushing my fingers against the front of his boxer briefs. His erection.

He’s hard. Hot. I’m impatient, shoving at his pants, his boxers. He pulls away and takes care of them for me, stripping off the rest of his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. The moment he lies down on top of me, trapping me beneath him, I run my hands up and down his smooth back, his firm ass.

Rowan has a beautiful body. Far more defined than mine. I don’t exercise much, unless you consider constantly changing clothes to get your outfit just right a sport.

Prior to the accident, he was an elite athlete who worked out constantly. I know he has regrets about his broken ankle. Would he have pursued football in college? He still could if he wanted to. Would he go to a big university while I’m stuck in Paris?

Pushing all of those thoughts out of my head, I focus on him. I lift my head, pressing my mouth against the center of his chest, his heart thundering beneath my lips, and I smile, knowing that I do that to him.

A week ago, I could’ve never imagined we’d get to this point, but here we are.

Here we are.

“Your skin is so soft.” His tone is reverent as he strokes his fingers across my stomach before sliding his hand up to cup my breast. “I never want to stop touching you.”

“Don’t stop. Please.” I sound like I’m begging but I don’t care. “Just—keep doing what you’re doing.”

His smile is slow and sure and the sight of it makes my pussy throb. “There’s my girl.”

My entire body flushes at him calling me his girl. He is really trying to destroy me, isn’t he. With a few choice words and his hands and mouth, I’m a wreck. A wreck for him.

He kisses me before I can say anything else, stealing my words, my thoughts. I give into his greedy kiss, even greedier than him, our tongues tangling and teeth clashing and hands roaming. I’ve got his cock firmly in my grip, sliding up and down, rubbing my thumb across the head, smearing the precum everywhere.

“Jesus,” he grunts, thrusting into my hand. “I don’t know if I’m going to last much longer.”

“Get the condoms,” I demand, impatient. I’m tired of waiting.

I need him inside me.

He crawls off me and goes to grab his pants from the floor, pulling out a single condom that he must’ve been carrying in his pocket. He stands at the foot of the bed, tearing the wrapper open and pulling the condom out before he settles the ring over the tip of his dick, slowly rolling it on.

I watch with obvious interest, pressing my thighs together to stave off the ache. He lifts his head, his dark green gaze meeting mine, and I see nothing but pure heat there. All that want and need that matches the emotions swirling within me.

Unable to stop myself, I sit up, propped against the pillows as I spread my legs wide, offering myself to him.

His gaze turns even darker. “Touch yourself, Bells.”

I do as he demands without question, settling my fingers between my thighs, rubbing tiny circles upon my clit. It tingles. Throbs. I moan, my gaze still locked on his, my fingers busy. His gaze drops, watching my quick fingers, and then he’s back on the bed with me, pushing my hand aside so he can touch me instead.

“Are you close?” His voice is gravelly, making me flush hot, and I nod, a whimper leaving me when he slips a finger inside me and thrusts, his thumb pressing on my clit. He knows exactly what to do—all of the sneaking around for the last few days has taught him well. Within seconds I’m coming, the orgasm slamming into me. I cry out, pressing my lips together the moment I hear myself, not wanting anyone else to hear us either.

He removes his hand from between my legs, readjusting himself, and next thing I know, he’s right there, his erection brushing against my still pulsing clit, and I suck in a sharp breath, realizing the moment is happening.

Finally.

“Oh fuck.” He slips inside me, just the head, and pauses there, his arms straining, his eyes falling closed. I watch him, fascinated by his reaction. His restraint is impressive, though I can tell his arms are shaking slightly. “You feel so fucking good.”

“You do too,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him. He pushes deeper, filling me more and more, until he’s completely inside me and he pauses, hanging his head.

I squirm beneath him, trying to get comfortable. It stings a little—it’s been a while since I’ve had sex and I’m sorry to even think about him, but Bentley wasn’t nearly as thick as Rowan is—and I take a deep, shuddery breath, clenching my inner walls around him to test it out.

His loud groan could probably wake up the entire household.

“Shh.” I rest my hand lightly over his mouth, shutting him up. “They’ll be banging down my door in seconds if you keep that up.”

Rowan’s eyes go almost comically wide and I drop my hand, smiling. He leans in, his mouth on mine and the kiss turns wild as he starts to move. Pulling almost all the way out before he pushes back in, the slow drag of his cock causing little tendrils of pleasure to spread throughout my body. Our bodies start to move together, rocking, our hips thrusting in consummate rhythm. I arch against him, sending him deeper, tightening around him and he presses his face into my neck with a groan.

“You keep that up, I’m going to come,” he threatens, his voice dark. “And I don’t want to. Not yet.”

I cling to him, letting him fuck me, reveling in the sensation. In the knowledge of him being with me like this. The two of us together. It feels right. Perfect. And I’m going to ruin it all by leaving him.

Closing my eyes, I fight against it, focusing instead on the pleasure. The thrill of being in his arms, connected to him. As close as two people can be.

Rowan increases his pace, his hips moving, and I let him. I’m not close to orgasm yet but I’d rather he become lost in me and lose control completely. I’m okay with it. Beyond okay.

“I’m.” He thrusts. “Going to.” Another flex of his hips, sending him deeper. “Come.”

I nod my encouragement, hooking my legs around his hips, sending him further. He’s buried deep, hitting a part of my body I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, and the next thing I know, he’s coming, a long, shuddery groan leaving him when he thrusts one last time, holding his hips against me as he orgasms.

Cracking open my eyes, I watch him, fascinated. His muscles strain, the tendons in his neck thick, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Without warning he collapses on top of me, always careful of his weight and that he doesn’t crush me, and I wrap my arms around him, drifting my nails up and down his back, making him shiver.

“Holy. Shit.” He kisses my neck. “That was …”

“All right?” Amusement laces my voice.

He lifts away from me, his gaze serious. “Amazing. Like, what the fuck were we waiting for?”

“I don’t know. We could’ve been doing this days ago. You know I was game.” I smile, trying to keep it light and staying focused on him. If I let my thoughts wander, I’ll start to get sad and that’s the last thing I want.

“I’ve wasted time.” His expression, his voice are both gravely serious. “Guess I know what we’re doing tomorrow.”

I slap his shoulder, making him grin. “We can’t, Rowan. We need to spend time with your parents before we—go back.”

Those two words hang in the air, foreboding. Go back to Lancaster Prep. Go back to real life. Go back to the limited time we have together.

He pulls out of me and gets out of bed, going to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, I assume. I hear the toilet flush and water run in the sink and then he’s back, sliding into the bed. Pulling me into his arms. I rest my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart filling me with contentment.

“You didn’t come, did you?”

I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze. “No. I mean, I did right before—”

He flips me so I’m lying on my back once more, his torso settling between my legs, his gaze full of mischief. “Want to rectify that?”

“Umm …” My voice drifts when he slides down my body, leaving a trail of kisses on my skin, his mouth brushing one hip bone, then the other. “Okay.”

And then he proceeds to do just that.