Second Chance Boyfriend

In case I somehow screw it up.” He lowers himself so his body covers mine, his mouth against my neck. He’s kissing and nibbling me there, driving me crazy with the way he touches me, and I close my eyes, losing myself.
    Finding myself. With him.
    He’s somehow worried he’s going to go about this all wrong, but he doesn’t know that no matter what, he can’t possibly screw this up. That everything he does, everything he says, how he touches me, is all so perfect, it’s scary. He’s all I ever want. All I’ll ever need.
    Drew maps my body with his hands and mouth, his tongue… God, his tongue. He licks me everywhere, tasting me, savoring me, until I’m writhing beneath him, my entire body on fire. He skims his fingers along the insides of my thighs so lightly I shiver. My entire body is shaking in anticipation as he kisses the sensitive flesh of my stomach, my hips, my thighs…
    And when he finally, finally delivers that first tentative lick between my legs, I moan so loud I’m almost embarrassed.
    But I’m not. How can I be when the man I love so much is overwhelming me with pleasurable sensation after pleasurable sensation? He searches me intimately with his tongue, slipping one long finger deep inside me, and another shivery moan escapes as I arch against him.
    It’s too much. It’s not enough. I both want to come and make it last and when he increases his pace, I know I’m dangerously close to splintering completely apart.
    “Tell me where, baby,” he whispers against me as I’m shuddering and gasping, my fingers clenched in his hair. “Tell me how you like it.”
    “Higher,” I choke out and he moves higher, his tongue flicking against my clit, his finger deep inside my body. Oh, shit, that is it. It’s perfect, just perfect where he’s touching me, licking me. Right. Fucking. There….
    With a ragged whisper of his name falling from my lips, I’m coming. The waves wash over me again and again, sweeping me under, banishing my thoughts so all I can do is feel.
    And then I feel him. Drew. Looming over me, his big hands gripping my hips as he positions me, and without warning, he slides deep inside my body. I gasp at first contact, going completely still as he fills me completely. He dips his head, his mouth crushing mine, and I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue.
    I don’t care. God, it arouses me even more and within an instant our bodies are a frenzy of movement as we rock against each other, into each other, taking us higher and higher until we’re both panting, sweating, heaving masses of tangled flesh.
    He presses his forehead to mine, his breath hot in my face, and I open my eyes to find him watching me. “Fable.” He swallows hard and closes his eyes, breathing so deep his bare chest brushes against mine. “You feel so fucking good.”
    I’m completely undone. So is he. I feel like we’re both going to absolutely die if we don’t come at this very instant. Together. Orgasm number one is already a distant memory. Orgasm number two is threatening to take over and I wind my legs around his waist, sending him deeper.
    His thrusts increase, become more urgent, and I move with him. Encouraging him with murmured words, stroking his back with my fingernails, resting my palms on his muscular backside so I can push him further. Our bodies are smashed so close together, I feel like we’re a permanent part of each other.
    I’ve heard those sorts of declarations before. Where two become one and you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends, blah, blah, blah. I always thought it sounded like a bunch of romantic crap.
    But I feel that way right now with Drew. As if our bodies are entwined, bound so tight we could never, ever come apart. His heart is mine.
    And my heart is his.
    I breathe his name across his lips as I begin to tremble. This orgasm is different than the first one. It starts low in my belly, radiating through my muscles, my bloodstream, until my entire body is shaking. He keeps moving, keeps thrusting, hard, harder, driving my climax on until he strains above me, consumed by his own orgasm.
    I’m captivated by the powerful display of his tense muscles and I run my hands across his shoulders, down his chest. His skin is hot, his flesh unyielding, and tears threaten the corner of my eyes at the swell of emotion that threatens to take over me.
    The need to express my feelings for him is so overwhelming, I’m afraid I might burst. I don’t want to say it