After losing her job and her girlfriend, it's time for Annie Abraham to admit defeat and move back in with her parents. She has hardly been back to her tiny Montana hometown since the unforgettable summer before her senior year of college, when she...
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I didn't think we'd sleep together so soon. It's been nine days since I saw her in the coffee shop and now she's in my bed, and eight years of longing and regret and sorrow dissipate in a moment when she peels off my tank top and pushes me back, her eyes darkening with lust as she straddles my hips and presses her lips to mine.
"You taste so good," she murmurs as she trails her lips down my jaw, my neck, my chest, my stomach, leaving fireworks in her wake. Everywhere her lips touch, she sparks a flame. "Fuck, Laurel, I've missed this."
"Me too," I say, my hands in her hair as her hands roam my body, her thumbs pulling at the waistband of my leggings and I lift my hips to help her out, my brain empty of anything but lust for her. Until I find myself thinking about the cyclical nature of life. Because even in the heat of the moment, even when I am about to have sex for the first time in so fucking long, my brain will not shut up.
Annie was the last person to give me an orgasm and now, all these years later, it's her again. Her mouth on mine, her hand on my breast as she kisses me hard and touches me softly. She remembers exactly how I like to be touched. Firm hands on my hips, her fingers digging into my thighs, the weight of her on me when she eases my legs apart and pushes into me, her teeth nipping at my neck as I swallow a gasp at the pressure, the fullness, how ready my body is to welcome her back. Her soft hair tickles my chest as her hands work magic, my moaning mouth pressed to the top of her head, my arching body pinned beneath her.
"I love your body," she murmurs, one hand touching my stomach as she fingers me. My body is softer than it was the last time we knew each other like this. I haven't snapped back into shape the way I did before, my skin looser over my belly than it was, but Annie doesn't care, the way she moans as she grips my skin, the last handful of fat I'll never shed.
I like it too. The way she devours me. The way she moves inside me as I hold my breath, overwhelmed by sensations I haven't felt in years. Heat builds at the base of my spine as Annie kisses my sternum and cups my breast and presses me into the mattress, whispering in my ear as I come undone. My thighs seize, trapping her hand between my legs as my lungs threaten to burst and my eyes squeeze so tightly shut that speckled stars dust my vision, and when I'm struggling to catch my breath, Annie steals it from me with a kiss. I cling to her, clutching her to my chest as I remember how to breathe.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Annie says, her lips moving to my jaw. When I come down from my high and the tables are turned, my head is still spinning as I give her what I know she wants. It's been a long time, but it turns out it's like riding a bike. The minute my hands are on her body, it all comes flooding back. How she likes neck kisses and nipple play and pressure on her lower stomach. I breathe in her gentle perfume when I press my lips to her neck, when I take her nipple between my teeth and bite just hard enough to make her gasp.
"Do you still like that?" I ask, cupping her breast in my palm. She has the most perfect breasts. They were made to be held by my hands, her nipples designed to nudge the crevice of my life line.
