The Failing Hours

Her jeans and plain white underwear follow.

Violet pulls back the coverlet on her bed, spreading back the quilt and crawling underneath. Pats the space beside her. Drags the covers waist high when I’m settled.

She lies flat in the center, wearing nothing but her dainty little bra, rosy nipples displayed through its sheer white lace. I rub one of the straps between my fingers. Trail my pinky inside the fabric, over the shallow swell of her breasts.

“I hate this bra,” she groans.

“Why?” I lean in, kissing her flesh near the tantalizing lace.

Violet shivers.

“It’s not sexy.”

“It’s not?” Kiss.

“You’re saying it like you don’t agree.”

I trace the sateen strap, the edge of the cup. “I don’t agree. I can see through this to your skin; how is that not sexy?”

She says nothing more after that, resumes silently observing me drawing on her skin with my fingers.

Violet

I believe him.

I believe he thinks I’m sexy. Me. The bra. My body.

What I can’t believe is that he said he loves me.

He said it and he said it first.

Zeke gazes down at me, propped up by an elbow, his mammoth upper body a wall of steel. Imposing. Strong. Unyielding.

His fingers linger on my bra strap, make their way up the column of my neck. Bury themselves in my hair. I want to touch him, long for it, but he’s so content to lie here touching me.

So I watch.

Could lie here forever.

He’s ridiculously attractive.

Zeke’s bulging biceps flex with every movement of his arm, muscles corded…tan skin…tight six-pack…the V of his pelvis dipping into the waistband of his jeans.

He’s running his big hand up my thigh, stroking my hip, a relaxed smile playing at his lips.

He’s tired.

“A-Are you spending the night?” I try to inquire as nonchalantly as I can, but my stomach and tongue are doing somersaults.

“I can if you want me to. I can grab my overnight bag—it’s in the truck from our match at Purdue.”

“All right then, it’s settled. You’re sleeping over.”

“I’m sleeping over,” he parrots, testing out the words with an amused expression. “Shit, those are three words I’ve never said to anyone.”

And they’re for me.

“Don’t look so smug,” he teases, reaching for me under the blankets, hauling me closer, snug into his body.

He draws down the strap of my bra, kissing my shoulder blade. Kissing the curve of my neck. Pulls back the lace and kisses my nipple, licks it.

An excited gasp of eagerness escapes my lips.

“Shh.” He silences me with a quick kiss on the mouth. “We have to be quiet. Winnie doesn’t want to hear us having S-E-X.”

S-E-X. He spells it out like it’s naughty.

“I love your pretty little tits.” He sucks gently until my head hits the pillow and I’m clutching my bed sheets. “I could suck your nipples all night.”

Oh god, I would let you.

He lifts his eyes, nuzzling the underside of my boob with his nose. “Shh, that was out loud.”

Oh god.

“That too.”

I don’t know how long we stay like this, him exploring my body with softly roaming hands—seconds, minutes maybe?—but when my eyes get heavy, his palm slides behind my neck.

He cradles my head in one hand, the other tracing the curve of my waist, up and down my ribcage. It takes a trip over my stomach, over my belly button, finger circling the small indentation there.

His mouth soundlessly forms the words, “I love you.”

Lips meet my mouth.

Tongue dips inside.

Slower than he’s ever kissed me before.

Wide, open-mouthed kisses. Slow, delicious tongue.

Wet.

Zeke repositions himself, his knee inserting itself between my legs, gradually nudging them apart. Firm, hot thighs. Tight ass. Chiseled, sexy body.

Mine, all mine.

When his hard, sinewy biceps brace themselves on either side of my head, our lips meet again.

He pushes in effortlessly. Slowly.

Magnificently stiff.

Gloriously long.

We moan in tandem, his face buried in my shoulder, nipping.

I cradle his head, spreading my legs farther when he begins a slow, steady rhythm, grunting with each thrust.

“Uhh…” My eyes roll toward the ceiling, vision blurry. I can’t focus. “Uhh…”

When his mouth muffles my moans, my brows furrow, almost painfully. It feels so “Mm…mmmph…” I break the contact. “Oh god…” I pant. “Oh Zeke, yes…I love you…”

“I love you, Violet. I fucking love you…”

Our kisses are frenzied. Frantic. Desperate.

Wet.

Panting.

Moaning.

“You feel so good, oh god, deeper…”

His pelvis rotates, controlled, pushing deep. Grabbing my ass and pulling me in, sinking into me as far as he can go. So thick. So hard. So…so…

I want to cry good. Painful good.

Mouthwatering.

Eye rolling.

Hot.

My toes curl.

The pumping becomes excruciatingly slow, our heads thrown back. He leans in to suck on my neck, my breasts.

When his tongue latches onto a nipple, “Ffff…uck…that’s gonna make me come…push Zeke, harder…oh god, yeah…yesssss…oh god, yes yes…”