Now, it was my turn to watch.

His neck arched as he threw his head back. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, and his jaw clenched.

He's the beautiful one.

Seeing him lose control like this was an utter power trip.

He let out a low moan, deep from inside his chest, which erupted into a primitive, "Baby Girrrrl!"

"Mmm," I groaned. "You feel awesome, Phil," I told him.

Leaning down, I pressed my lips to his throat. Spreading my thighs wider, I tightened around him, feeling him instantly growing harder. "I love that-how you get so hard right before you're going to come."

"More," he gasped. "Please..."

I rocked back, grinding hard and slow, feeling him butt the mouth of my cervix.

Fuck, he's deep.

His hands tightened his grip on my hips as he thrust up.

"Yesss," I hissed. "Just like that."

Biting his lip, punching his hips, he purposely hit that spot again. It was warring inside him-the need to come and the desire to make me lose it just one more time before he did. He was straining and writhing underneath me, and watching him was so erotic, so hot that the spot began to throb heavily again. I squeezed him in short hot bursts. The wave was taking me, and I felt it sweeping him up, too.

"Fuck!" he bellowed.

He shot up from the bed, grasping my ass in one hand. He shifted onto his knees, forcing my legs to go around his waist. Tightly clasping me to him, he started fiercely pumping into me.

Gasping, grunting, groaning, the wet slapping of our bodies, the heavy heady combination of our scents mingling with our sex-it was all too much. I detonated around him while he roared and poured himself into me once more.

His arms wrapped around me, enclosing me in his embrace, as his heart pounded in rhythm with my own. For some minutes, all that stirred was the harshness of our breaths.

"Oh God," he whispered in my hair.

He was trembling slightly, the intense shivers passing into me.

I nodded, unable to form words.

If there ever was a heavenly experience, that was it. Never, not even in my wildest fantasies, had I ever thought sex could be like that. That experience had been all consuming, connecting us even more. It was a good thing we hadn't slept with each other all those years ago because we never would have parted.

After a few minutes, I stirred, pushing myself back.

"I need to use the bathroom," I explained when he refused to let me go.

With a reluctant sigh, he released me. He wasn't completely soft as I pulled off of him, and I was sore, raw, and throbbing as I stood on shaky legs.

"A few joints and an ashtray are in the nightstand. Spark one up," I told him as I wobbled into the bathroom.

It was a rule-fucking pee after sex, no matter what. UTIs were not to be fucked with. I plopped my ass on the toilet and peed. Then, I quickly cleaned myself up, using a wet washcloth. I had Phil spunk dribbling out of me, and I didn't think it was going to stop anytime soon.

As clean as was possible, I headed back into the bedroom. I grabbed my underwear off the floor and pulled them on. "I'm going to get something to drink. You want anything?" I asked, yanking on my tank top.

Phil was sitting on the edge of the bed with my silver picture frame in his hands. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"It was in my mom's photo collection," I replied, smiling at him.

"You know that this is me," he stated. He wasn't returning my smile.

"Yes."

"How did your mom get this?" he asked angrily.

What the fuck is his problem?

"She took it," I replied, feeling the smile slide off my face.

"From who?"

Is he serious? Doesn't he realize I'm the little girl in the photo?

I walked up to him, not at all happy with what his tone was implying, and I snatched the frame out of his hands.

"You know, I'm not sure I should be dating someone this dense," I snipped at him.

The fury in his eyes blazed hotter.

I pulled the photo out of the frame and handed it to him, the back facing up. "She took the damn picture, ass!"

He glanced down to read it, and his eyes widened with shock. I was about to turn on my heel to stomp my way to the kitchen when his hand shot out and tightly grabbed my wrist. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were filling with...tears.

"It's you," he whispered. He swallowed hard.

Still seething a bit, I scathingly retorted, "No shit, Sherlock."

"Kenna..." His voice caressed out my name, and I felt my heart melt a little. "You don't understand."

"You're right. I don't."

"I remember her...you!" he said. "My whole life, I've remembered this little girl. I think she's my first real memory. This has been my favorite Christmas for more than twenty years and for nothin' else but that beautiful little girl. She was this little box of warmth and light, like livin' sunshine, and she completely stole my heart. She lit up my whole world for that one week."

A fat tear rolled down his face, and I just stared at him in total astonishment. My eyes were filling with tears, and soon, I'd be breaking out in snorting sobs.

Phil took a deep breath. "My life was a dark place then, Kenna. My mom was a nasty drunk, and she...she used to beat the shit out of me. My dad was a wreck. Then, this little girl came into my world and made it a wonderful place. To this day, I still think of her. She...she was my first love."

My soul ached something fierce, and it was so quiet that, for the first time, I really took notice of the thunder and deluge of rain pouring down around the house. Gently, he tugged on my wrist, and he pulled me to him and settled me onto his lap to straddle his waist. He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tight and burying his face in my hair.

"I love you, Kenna," he whispered to me, his hands clasping me hard. "I've loved you my whole life, Baby Girl."

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him back. "I love you, too."

His whole body swelled in my arms, filling with his breath. He pulled back, so he could look into my eyes.

"I don't know how I didn't realize it was you. There's really no one else you could be," he said.

Tugging off my tank top, he rolled us back onto the bed. Pulling off my underwear, he settled between my thighs and sank in deep, inch by agonizing inch. His hands reached out, and he ran his fingertips over my face, my lips.

"There's never been anyone else. Just you," he stated. "Only you."

Hot and soft, his lips pressed to mine.

This time, it was slow and achingly tender-him riding into me with long, deep strokes, dragging out the moment. We were both so desperate to make this last, to feel and experience every tiny movement of the other, to build it up to the ultimate release.

"After we met that night at Bougainvillea," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've spent every night since then dreaming of this moment. I'd fantasize myself to sleep, imagining I was safe and warm inside you."

His eyes burned into mine, stripping me down to my soul, laying me bare. That spot within me was sparkling with each thrust. Every time he touched it, an intense warmth built up inside. Of their own accord, my eyes drifted closed, letting my other senses take over.

"God, I love this," he murmured. "Watching you come...I've never seen anything more beautiful."

My neck arched, and my lips parted as my head tilted back.

"None of my fantasies of you came close to this," he half-whispered, half-moaned.

"Oh God!" I gasped. "Phil!"

I clenched around him hard, making him groan. He slid one arm under my back while the other snaked through my hair. His mouth covered mine in a mindless hungry kiss.

"Phil..." I begged him on a dry sob.

"Tell me, Baby Girl."

"Harder."

He picked up the pace, pushing me higher and higher, until everything I ever was shattered into a million pieces. Lost and scattered, I wasn't too sure I could ever recover from this.

"Oh fuck, Kenna!"

The sound of his voice pulled all those pieces back together, sealing them up again. He started to pound into me, driving home, desperate to fuse us together. He stiffened all over, his back bowing, his cock jerking hot and hard.

Third Eye-to-Third Eye, Phil dropped his brow to mine, and we were both fighting for breath. My arms clutched him to me as tightly as he had me, the heavy pounding of his heart matching my own, reverberating through me.

"I'm dyin'," he panted. "I've died. I must be dead."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, a bit winded.

"Because-" He swallowed hard. "Because I've surpassed bliss. I've just felt the greatest peace I've ever known, and it's in you."

Outside, the thunderstorm raged, rain lashing at the windows. Lying next to me, he took my hand, lacing our fingers. For some moments, we were lost to our own thoughts, listening to the storm.

"I love this weather," I sighed.

"Me, too," he confessed softly.

I could still feel him, like an echo bouncing around inside of me. It was almost as if he was still riding in and out. It wasn't unlike the last six years-him being a part of me, but not really there.

"I need something to drink," I said, swallowing around my dry throat.

"Yeah."

Wincing with the burning twinge deep inside me, I slowly sat up.

Shit, it's like losing my virginity all over again!

Well, no, not exactly. Maybe just the aftereffects.

I was raw and sore, and I could only hope he'd break me in with some regular hard use.

Gingerly, I pulled on my underwear, feeling even more of him leaking out of me. It seemed to be such an intimate thing, having the essence of Phil dripping out of my lady bits. I was glad that he was the first in that respect.

"What are you thinkin'?" he asked, sitting up and watching me.

"That I didn't realize how gross letting a man cum inside me would be." I laughed.

Maple sugarcolored eyes flashed with a bit of shock and pain.

"I'm teasing you, Phil. Jeez." No need to get all butt hurt.

"Is it really gross?" he asked timidly.

"No. I...I like feeling a part of you still inside me." Even if it is leaking all over my underwear.

Phil sucked in a sharp breath while I pulled my shirt on. "I like the idea of leaving a part of me inside you. It felt...really, really good. I'm never wrapping this shit up again."

It had felt pretty incredible. The hot satin of his skin sliding into me...was certainly something special.

We walked down the stairs, hands clasped, and we headed into the kitchen.

"You got any food?" he asked.

"Yeah. What do you want?"

"Just food."

"Well, that narrows it down." I laughed.

Filling a mason jar full of iced water, I chugged some down and then handed the rest over to him. He killed it and refilled it. I packed a bowl, and we smoked before I made him three massive roast beef and provolone sandwiches.

"My God, you're an angel," he groaned. He dug in. "Aren't you hungry?"