He loves going down on me. It drives me wild in all the best ways. He’s talented, to say the least. He keeps his gaze on mine as he kisses my lower stomach, a gleam in his eye, amused in advance at the pleading that will soon take place. I’m torn, every time. Keep going. Stop. More. Less, please less. I can’t take another swipe of your tongue. I surely will not survive it.

He settles between my legs, my knees bent and splayed on the bed, his eyes still on mine as he uses his fingers to spread me open. His tongue is on my clit a moment later.

God, my heart is racing so fast.

I don’t care what anyone says, a man giving oral is a different level of intimate than sucking a cock. I know it should be equal, but hell, their junk is hanging out all the time. Having his fingers holding me open while his face is an inch from my pussy, his tongue rimming my entrance, then his nose bumping my clit as his tongue dives inside, well. It’s just not the same.

His lips brush against my sensitive skin, the added friction—even as slight as it is—making me fist his hair and buck my hips, begging for more, even as my mouth is spewing forth claims that it’s too much.

He crawls over me, mouth crashing over mine. I can taste myself on him, and I like that too. Sex is messy if you’re doing it right.

One of his hands cups a breast as the other reaches for the condoms in the bedside table. He’s tearing it open when I place a hand on his forearm, stopping him.

“You don’t have to,” I say, glancing towards the condom in his hand. “If you don’t want. It’s not the right time in my cycle anyway.” We’ve never had sex without a condom before. I’ve never had sex without a condom, period. But it’s Sawyer.

An unreadable expression crosses his face, then he shakes his head and slides the condom out of the package.

“No, it’s not worth the risk. I never should’ve asked that of you,” he says, referring, I’m sure, to a conversation we had early on when he asked if we were going to ditch the condoms anytime soon, since I’m on the pill and both of us are clean.

I told him no.

Now I have a moment of surprise and a sting of rejection, if I’m being truthful, that he just turned me down. I don’t have time to linger on it, because he’s rolled the condom on and is nudging into me.

“I love you, Everly,” he says, smiling down at me, that fucking dimple a shotgun to my heart. Then he slides into me an inch at a time.

I exhale a groan and tilt my hips up, welcoming him, my heels planted on the bed by his thighs, digging into the mattress for leverage.

He fills me, sinking into me until our bodies are flush. His hands slide under my back, his palms cupping my shoulders to hold me in place before he thrusts.

“I love you, too,” I tell him, as he presses his forehead to mine and begins to move.

We stay like that throughout, my arms wrapped around his neck, his face inches from mine. Whispered words of lust and love from beginning to end.

After, I grab the phone from the tripod and lie with my head on his chest, arm extended so we can view the recording.

“Hmm, that didn’t really go as I’d planned,” I say sleepily, dropping my arm and stopping the playback with a flick of my thumb.

“No?” he questions, his fingers combing through strands of my hair and down my back.

“I think we recorded ourselves making love instead of the dirty hard fuck I assumed we’d document. It’s kind of a shitty sex tape.”

His hand stills on my hair, his lips pressing the top of my head before he speaks. “No, it’s perfect.”

Forty-One

“Good day student teaching?”

Chloe has just walked in, hanging her coat on the back of the door. She gets home every day after five, exhausted and smiling.