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I give her a leveled look. “That idea was born of you being bored and horny while you were on your period, remember?”
“Well, now my idea is to have anal sex!” She is shouting at me, never a good look when trying to seduce someone. “What’s so hard to understand?”
“Let’s pin this generous offer for when you’re feeling less grateful and I’m not as power drunk.” I fist the back of her hair, extending her neck. “Now be a good girl and get on all fours for me on the bed. It’s your best angle, anyway.”
She does, dragging her knees over the satin linen.
“Stare at the headboard. Don’t take your eyes off of it.” I circle her like a predator, knowing it’s making her hot for me.
When I put on a condom and finally enter her from behind, I find her as dry as a bone. Confused, I pull out slowly, not wanting to necessarily hurt her.
“Would you like more time?” I clear my throat, feeling surprisingly out of depth.
She reaches over and grabs the hem of my shirt. “No. Continue. It’s just ... stress makes me that way sometimes. I’m having fun.”
“No offense, but you feel like sandpaper,” I say flatly. “Having sex is not mandatory.” I pull away from her, about to rip the condom off my cock.
She turns around and tugs at my shirt desperately. “No, no. Please. You have to fuck me.”
“Why?” I ask, flabbergasted. We’ve never had an issue like this before, but I don’t see the necessity in fucking tonight if she is not up for it.
“Because!” She is on the verge of crying. “I’ve missed you and I want you inside me, all right? Stop asking so many questions.”
I have an odd feeling that there is more to tonight than her not being wet. She usually bounces on my cock like it’s Sky Zone. Something’s up with her, but she’ll never confide in me.
“Please.”She pushes her ass toward me, her voice urgent. “Do it. Please. For me.”
Begrudgingly, I fuck her, slow and careful, holding her by the waist, watching her silken, raven hair spilling over her smooth back. She is still mostly dry, but every time I see her wince, I push my fingers into hermouth and use her saliva as lubricant, massaging her clit in the process in the vain hope she’ll get a little wetter.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask gruffly, feeling like a goddamn high schooler and hating every moment of it.
“It’s amazing. Ohhh, just like that. Please.”
“You don’t feel like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Men know very little about the female body,” she barks out. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling. I have my own agency.”
Closing my eyes, I try to finish as fast as I can. The sex is about as good as a week-old coffee. I’m half-mast, put out, and unsettled. So for the first time in my life I grunt a little, pretending to finish, then pull out as fast as I can.
When she rolls over underneath me, she grins up, cupping my cheeks. “That was so much fun, wasn’t it?”
Like grinding my dick over a nail file.
“Epic,” I mutter.
She leans forward to kiss the side of my mouth.
Subdued, I slide the condom off as I amble to the bathroom. I throw the condom into the trash and turn to the toilet to take a piss. Frowning, I crouch down to examine the pink residue around the rubber. Another unwelcome first.
“Grace?”
“Hmm?” she purrs from the room, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels.
“I think you bled.”
Her metallic laugh is bone rattling as it echoes around my room. “Did I? Oh, it used to happen to me all the time in college.”
“What does it mean?” I ask.
