Lost and Found

Chapter Nineteen

Except…it was all about love.

Krissa knew herself well enough to understand that sex could never be just about sex for her. Earlier, it had felt wrong. There’d been no kissing, no pretty words, no murmurs of pleasure. It had been cold and mechanical. Even more mechanical than it had been with Derek lately. And she couldn’t do it. Now…she couldn’t not do it, they’d excited her to such a fevered peak, the need inside her a spike of hot hunger.

She wanted to touch Nate, wanted to give him pleasure too, so she reached for him, curled her fingers around his cock. God, he was big, thick and long with a beautifully shaped head. He pulsed in her hand, soft over hard. He groaned at her touch.

Her mouth watered with the desire to suck on him. She would. But right now…she parted her legs wider, tugged him closer. He put his hand over hers to guide himself into her. He paused with the crown of his penis just touching her as if suddenly mindful of what they were about to do.

Krissa’d completely lost the fact that they were trying to make a baby and when it seeped into her consciousness, Nate poised above her, emotion swept over her. Hope bubbled inside her. Desire swamped her. And fear clamped down on her—not fear of doing it, but fear that it wouldn’t work when she’d put such high hopes on this. Everything commingled inside her, desire winning out, and she knew she wanted this more than anything. Did she want a baby? Or did she want Nate? She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, unwilling to answer that question. “Do it,” she whispered.

He gave a short nod, pushed inside her. The sensation was exquisite, and Krissa’s eyes fell closed, her neck arched. He filled her up, filled the empty, needy ache, touched something deep inside her. He lifted her legs, bent her knees and pushed them back, deepening his stroke, the pleasure an acute point of heat inside her.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him, gratified by both the hunger and ecstasy on his face. She wanted to please him, too, wanted this to be good for him, for how good he’d made it for her after their rough start. She lifted her hips, took him deeper, squeezed around him and he let out another long moan.

He released her legs, and lowered his body over hers, kissing her tender nipples, kissing her chest between her breasts, and then her mouth, deep, reaching, open-mouthed kisses. He inhaled her breath, licked her mouth, nipped at her bottom lip. “Want this to be good for you, baby,” he whispered.

She kissed him back, wanted to absorb him, take in every bit of him. “It is good.” She wrapped her arms around his broad back, strong and hard, then curled her legs around him, too, let him drive into her.

“Want you to come again.” He slid a hand between their bodies and found her clit, still sensitive from her first orgasm. He stroked over it.

“Yes. Yes…ah.” Sensations combined, whipped through her like wildfire, his fingers outside her, his cock thrusting deep inside her. Pleasure twisted around and around inside her tighter, higher, until colors burst behind her eyelids and she arched hard against him. She cried out, dug her fingers into his shoulders, her heels into his back, holding him there as she felt him come, too, in hard, weighty pulses inside her.

“Fuck.” His muttered word in her ear made her tighten even more around him, and he pulsed on and on.

She stroked her hand down his back, slick with perspiration. His breath warmed her neck in hard exhalations.

Nate’s heavy heat crushed her into the bed, but she floated—drifted on a blissful high. That had been spectacular. She hugged him tighter, pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

He rolled to the side away from Derek onto his back and covered his face with one forearm. His chest still rose and fell rapidly. Krissa turned her head on the pillow to look at him, watch him. As consciousness seeped back into her, she turned her head the other way to look at Derek.

He lay there, still stroking his hard cock, eyes hot, mouth open. She reached a hand out and clasped his. His fingers tightened on hers. Their eyes met.

“I want you to suck me,” he said.

She nodded, squeezed his hand, rolled to her knees beside him. She took him in her hands, stroked him up, over the head, moisture there slicking the way, down, up. Her hair trailed over his thighs as she bent lower.

Derek reached a hand out, gathered her hair back, and she realized he’d done it so both he and Nate could watch her take him in her mouth. Her womb contracted, heat spreading from it through her body, and she licked then sucked Derek’s cock. Wetter. She needed it wetter. She lifted her mouth, let saliva drip onto his cock, swirled it around with her tongue. Both men drew in sharp breaths.

She took him deeper, as deep as she could, swallowing him, letting him nudge the back of her throat, sucked hard on every up stroke, circled her tongue around him.

Derek’s hands tightened in her hair. God, she loved that tingle in her scalp, that pleasure-pain. She bobbed her head up and down on his shaft, faster, bringing a groan from him. She slid her hand down between his hot thighs, cupped his balls, drawn up tight against his body. He moaned again, and she looked up over his body at his face, eyes closed, head back, mouth open in an ecstatic pose.

Her eyes swiveled as far as they could to glance at Nate, who watched with a heated gaze. Their eyes met briefly, and then she felt his hands on her, stroking her back, her waist her hips, her ass.

Her heart swelled at his touch, at the gentleness of it, at the fact that he hadn’t just spilled his sperm into her and been done. Then Derek’s body tightened, spasmed. “I’m coming, babe. God!” Hot liquid filled her mouth, his sharp taste flowing over her tongue and throat. She sucked every drop from him, then slowly slid her mouth off him, pausing for a last lick.

“Mmm, babe, thank you.” He tugged her hair so she lay down between the two men. Her mouth burned from being stretched so wide, so long, but it felt good. She closed her eyes, breathing fast, one hand on Derek’s chest, the other on Nate’s hard abdomen. Nate covered her hand with his.

Sleep wanted to take her away and she was slipping into it when she felt Nate move beside her to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed.

She opened her eyes and rolled toward him, put her hand on his back. “Where’re you going?”

He turned, gave her a crooked smile as he stood. “Back to my room.”

She shook her head. She stretched her hand toward him. “No. Stay.” Their eyes met. “Please.”

He hesitated, glanced at Derek behind her, then gave a short nod, took her hand and slid back into bed with them.

Nate awoke in bed with Krissa. He turned his head on the pillow to regard her sleeping form, mouth soft, lashes feathery on her cheeks. Derek was gone and Nate lifted his wrist to glance at the watch he still wore. Almost eight.

Derek always left early, and had made no exception today even though he was leaving his wife in bed with another man.

Nate rubbed his chest. A tangle of emotions writhed inside him like snakes in a pit, making his stomach jump. Images of last night played through his mind, Krissa’s kisses, her beautiful face as he made her come. He recalled the tight warm feel of her around him, how sublime and perfect it had been.

Something had torn loose inside him and was unraveling. It scared him.

Krissa’s eyes fluttered open and caught him staring at her. She blinked. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

They lay there, close enough to touch, except the duvet had wrapped itself around Nate and created a barrier between their naked bodies.

Krissa reached a hand out and covered his on his chest. “Thank you.”

His heart constricted. He wished he’d gotten up and scrammed out of her bedroom before she’d awoken. “No need.”

“Yes, there is,” she said softly, fingers tightening on his. “Thank you for making that so good for me.”

Jesus. His eyes burned. And it wasn’t from bright light, because the room was almost dark, a faint pearly light making its way around the shades over the window.

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” he managed to say, then threw back the duvet and rolled out of bed. “Better go shower.”

He walked out without looking back at her, because he had a feeling if he did, he’d never leave that bed.

He lathered up in the shower, couldn’t resist dragging a sudsy hand over his cock. More action than he’d seen in quite some time, and yet he could go again. Thinking about Krissa’s sweet pussy made him hard again. He circled his fingers around his cock, slid them up, back down…then realized he couldn’t jerk off in the shower. He had to keep his sperm for Krissa, because they were going to be doing it again that night. It only took once, but she’d been adamant that two or three times during the period she was ovulating was better.

So he’d get some relief. He just had to wait. He put both hands against the shower wall and hung his head. Water poured down on him, ran off his head and shoulders in rivulets, into his face, stinging his eyes. He stayed like that for a long time, until he could force himself to turn off the water. He couldn’t hide in the shower all damn day.

As was becoming usual, he and Krissa ate breakfast together in the bright kitchen, sharing the paper. When she took it from him to read him the sports scores, he held on to it, not wanting to need her for anything, but she tugged and, unless he wanted the newspaper ripped in half, he had to let go.

She read him the scores, and he didn’t say thank you. Barely said two words. He felt her scowl at him. “Think I’ll go for a walk on the beach,” he said, standing and folding the paper. And like the jerk he was, he left his plate and mug on the table.

He strode out onto the deck. Fog. The damp air cooled his lungs as he inhaled deeply. The thick fog hid the ocean from view, but he could smell the salty, fishy tang, and he could hear the rhythmic whoosh of waves onto the shore.

He jogged down to the sand and then strolled along the beach, looking for his favorite rock to sit on, glad he’d worn jeans because of the chill in the air. The fog created a weird feeling, a feeling of being alone even though someone could be standing twenty feet away.

He sat down, drew his knees up and encircled them with his arms. The fog dampened sounds, the ocean only a hushed cadence. He couldn’t see the homes behind him, couldn’t see the ocean in front of him.

He was alone.

And hadn’t that pretty much been his goal for the last two years? Not to need anyone, not to get involved, because that just got messy and the feelings that simmered down deep inside him had to be kept there.

But today they were stirred up, roiling, threatening to boil over. Last night had pulled some sort of plug within him that he’d carefully kept closed up, releasing things he didn’t want loose.

His gut churned almost to the point of nausea. Looking down, he saw a seashell in the sand. He reached for it, brushed the sand off it. He held it in his hand and stared at it. It was perfect—peachy pink, still whole, the two halves joined in the middle. Empty. Lifeless.