Second Chances (Woodburn Book 1)(76)

By: Rhea Madison

Their kisses took on a desperate edge as their bodies slammed together, as the climax drew ever nearer.

“John, John,” she wailed, yanking her head back away from his mouth. John dipped his head and sucked a bright bruise on her neck, a glowing mark against her creamy, white skin where everyone in town would see it and know that he’d been there, that he’d staked his claim. “I’m... I’m gonna...”

He pumped faster, pistoning his hips into her, grinding against her clit to make it so good for her. “Fuck, Ellen, I want to feel you let go,” he growled without slowing his pace or losing his rhythm. He was so close, so fucking close, but he refused to be the first one to tip over the razor’s edge. He ducked his head lower and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth, and Ellen went rigid, a savage scream rising from the base of her throat. She bucked hard against him, nonsense words falling from her lips as her body began to quake. He felt her muscles contract around him to the point of pain before she went boneless beneath him, sinking deep into the mattress.

John lost it then, spilling thick ropes of seed into her depths as he moaned her name over and over. By the time it ended, he was spent, utterly and completely, and he pulled out of her to flop onto the mattress beside her.

“Damn,” she muttered, curling up against him and draping her lithe body over his.

“Yeah... damn.”

JOHN AWOKE WITH A START, dick painfully hard in his sleep pants. Remnants of the vivid dream still clung to the corners of his mind, and he could almost feel Ellen’s sweat-damp skin against his own, smell her rich perfume, hear her ragged attempts at drawing breath. Disappointment, sharp and profound swept through him, and he gave up fighting against the urge to find some relief.

He shoved his hand into his pants and freed his cock into the cool, air of the room. It only took two rough swipes to have him coming all over himself. He yanked a pillow over his face to muffle his sounds of ecstasy, then slumped against the bed, light-headed with the power of his release. Guilt and shame swept through him, negating any pleasant post-orgasmic haze he might otherwise have enjoyed.

From the sounds of things, Ellen had a blown head gasket on her car which would take him at least a week to repair. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand having the pretty woman in town that long. Sighing, he snatched his discarded t-shirt off the floor and cleaned himself up as best he could without soap and water.

The one positive thing about finally getting off was that he could feel the lull of sleep drawing him under. Curling around the spare pillow on the bed, he closed his eyes and let himself drift. His last conscious thought was of Ellen and how in the hell he was going to make it through this next week.