“Gabe.” Her voice is the barest whisper and I lean in, kiss her cheek, her chin, her neck, her mouth. She arches her head back and I reach between us, caressing her breasts, tracing my finger along the edge of her bra, over her cleavage before I duck my head and kiss her there, tracing the tight valley between her breasts with my tongue. She tastes amazing.
She is amazing.
I’ve never wanted a woman more, never felt the need to be with a woman again like I do with Lucy. Being with her like this…means something. What, I’m not exactly sure.
My emotions are scattered everywhere. I can’t think. I can’t focus on anything but her. And me. The two of us together. Finally. What I’ve wished for since I saw her in class. Hell, since I left her in Santa Barbara. All of that earlier regret over leaving her vanishes in an instant now that I have her beneath me, my cock inside her, our bodies connected.
“Babe.” Pausing, I slide my hand down her stomach, over her pubic hair, to her clit, brushing my thumb against it and making her gasp. “I want to make you come.”
“K-keep doing that,” she breathes, sounding as overwhelmed as I feel. I brush against her clit once more, harder this time. “Yes. God, just like that.”
I start to move within her again, my control slipping but I don’t care. I move faster, going deeper, as deep as I can get and I feel the way she shudders around my cock. Her pussy is so wet, her clit swollen, her thighs squeezing tight around my hips. We’re moving so fast my breaths start to come faster, my chest aching, my balls drawing up close against my body. I can’t believe I’m going to come again, and so soon. I hope she’s close. God, I hope she’s going to come before me because I can’t hold back much longer…
“Oh.” The soft, wondrous sound falls from her lips just before I feel her pussy clutch my cock tightly, again and again. She moans, her face in my shoulder as she comes and my finger slips over her clit. I reach for her hips, hold her steady as I start to pump hard because I want to feel this. Feel myself come while she’s coming too. I want her to send me over that edge so I can join her.
Amazingly enough, my release hits me hard, making me groan. I shoot inside her, the sensation of her hot walls clamping around my shaft my complete undoing. We shudder and shake together for long, drawn out minutes, until finally I collapse on top of her, my hands braced on either side of her head so I don’t let my total weight smother her.
“Gabe.” She strokes my back again, another little shudder moving through me at her gentle touch. “I don’t think…we didn’t use a condom.”
I lift up to stare at her, frowning hard as I try to concentrate. We didn’t? I swore we did. I thought I grabbed one, set it on the table and…
My gaze locks on the rubber still in its wrapper sitting on the bedside table just like I remembered. I may have thought of the condom, but did I use the damn thing?
“Hey.” I touch his cheek, force him to look down at me. He’s still inside my body, I can feel him softening at a rapid pace and I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that he just realized we didn’t use protection. “It’s okay. I’m clean.”
Gabe blows out a harsh breath and hangs his head, his hair falling forward. I reach up to push it back from his face, enjoying the way the soft strands seem to cling to my fingers. “I-I fucking forgot Luce. And I never forget.”
“It’s fine. Really. As you uh, know, I’ve never been with anyone else.” For once, this is a good thing, right? At least I’m not disease ridden.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’ve never not used a condom.”
“Then we’re good,” I say, trying to keep it light. He felt so amazing inside of me with no barriers between us. I could get used to that real quick.
He opens his eyes, his bright blue gaze meeting mine. “But you could get pregnant.”
Oh. Shit. I didn’t even think of that, and getting pregnant should’ve been my first worry. It’s always been my worst fear, my mother’s worst fear and now it’s possibly come to life. Yet it completely slipped my mind that could even be an option.
I’ve lost it, clearly.
“I had my period recently,” I reassure him. Was it a week ago? Two weeks ago? If it was two weeks, that’s dangerous. One week, we should be good.
God, I don’t know. I’m not ignorant to this sort of stuff but I’ve never really paid much attention to my cycle beyond being irritated when I get it at inopportune times. Or pretty much any time. I’m fairly regular. My periods are normal. I don’t get bad cramps like I did when I was younger. And before, those few times Gabe and I did have sex, we always used a condom. I felt safe. I still feel safe.
And that’s probably me being stupid and naïve but I can’t help it. I think we’re good. If I believe it enough, that’ll make it true, right?
Oh my God. What am I, ten years old?
“We’ll be fine. I’m fairly certain I’m not ovulating,” I reassure him when he still hasn’t said anything. Why should I be the one making sure he’s okay? If I’m knocked up, he’s not going to be fat and pregnant and miserable, I am. Because if I am pregnant I refuse to get an abortion. It goes against my beliefs. I don’t judge, I believe a woman has a choice and I would choose to have that baby.
No questions asked.
His shoulders sag in visible relief. “Okay. That’s good, right?”
“Yes. It’s definitely good.” I nod, hoping like hell that means we’re in the clear. We have to be in the clear. I’m not ready for a baby and I know Gabe sure as hell isn’t. I don’t even think he’s ready for a commitment, let alone a freaking baby. “We’re good.” I brush my fingers through his hair again and lift my head, hoping he gets my hint.
He does, kissing me lightly, his damp lips so warm and soft, I go liquid inside. I sigh when he breaks away and he pulls out of my body, rolling to his side so he can scoop me up and hold me against him. Warm liquid spills out of me and I stiffen, the realization of what just happened hitting me full force.
Gabe came inside my body. And stupid me didn’t even realize that he forgot to slip on a condom. How could I be so irresponsible? I’d been caught up in the moment I guess, which is the oldest excuse in the book. If Mama knew, she’d smack me upside the head and call me stupid.
And she’s never in her life called me stupid. Ever. It was a bad word in my house, always has been. I used to get in trouble for saying it. Mama broke that habit of mine for me pretty quickly.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my forehead, his lips brushing my skin. His arm is around my waist, his big hand splayed across my back. The way he holds me is comforting but my thoughts are in complete turmoil. “I fucked up and I feel bad.”
“We’ll be fine,” I tell him, wondering who I’m trying to reassure more, him or me. “I should’ve remembered too. We’re both responsible so don’t think you’re the only one to blame.”
He’s quiet for a moment, so quiet and still, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep when I hear him speak again. “I was too caught up.”
“Too caught up in what?” I trace my fingers over his chest, touching the light patch of hair that grows between his pecs. He’s got the most fascinating masculine body I’ve ever seen. Despite my worry, despite my frustration with what just happened, I’m still so drawn to him, attracted by him, that I can’t stop touching his body. I want to touch it more. I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me despite our sexual epic fail.