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The satiation that was lingering in my bones just a moment ago is gone, leaving nothing but a burning need in its place. His body lays along mine, and I can feel every inch of his skin against me. “I really, really wanted to make this last long,” he says, pressing kisses down my neck, sucking where my neck meets my shoulder when he gets there. “But there’s no fucking way. Seeing you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking sexy, hearing you come with my name on your lips? I need you, Stell.”
“I have an IUD, and I was tested recently; everything came back negative,” I say, breathing heavily. I think I would give anything to get him in me, to feel that connection and closeness right now.
“Me too,” he breaths, “Are you saying?—“
“I’m saying I need you inside me now, or I’m going to lose it,” I whisper. “Please, Riggins. I miss you so fucking much. It consumes me. I wake up, and I miss you; I go to sleep, missing you. I justneedyou. Pleas—” I barely get the last word out before he’s sliding into me, both of us moaning loudly as he does.
It’s as I feared. Or hoped, maybe. Riggins fits me perfectly as if he was made to be mine and mine alone. Full to the point I can feel a stretch, his pelvis pressing on my clit as his hips press into me, a riot of pleasure filling my veins.
“Oh, fuck,”
“Stella,” he groans. “Stella.”
My hands move to his neck, fingers looping around his neck, his face coming to mine to kiss me again as he slides out. I moan again, the sound consumed by his lips as he breathes heavily and bites my lip. His hair falls in a curtain around me, and it feels like right now, all that exists in this world is Riggins and me.
There is no history, no past. No addiction, no depression. No music industry, no disappointed mother and no forgotten wedding. It’s just Riggins and I, clean slates. Two stars in the universe, lighting each other’s worlds.
He slides in and out of me, and one of my hands brushes up and down his back, scratching and grasping, trying to pull him closer, get more. My legs hook around his hips, both opening me so he can thrust in deeper, so he can hit right where I need him.
“I missed this so fucking much,” he says, moving and kissing my neck before removing to look into my eyes again. It’s like he is afraid if he looks away, this will all disappear, and I get it. It feels like I’m in a dream. My heart's greatest desires and hopes balled up into one thing that has to be too good to be true.
For a minute, I have Riggins back.
My Riggs.
The realization cracks something up in me and the pleasure gowns and builds, starting in my belly and moving to my lower back, pressure and excitement as I reach for my orgasm.
“That’s it, Stella. That’s it, baby, Fuck you’re beautiful.Sotight, so wet, so hot,” He groans in my neck as my head tips back before he moves again, pressing our chests closer, his weight in one forearm as his other hand moves behind my head, pushing so I’m forced to look at him again. He keeps sliding into me but doesn’t increase the pace or the pressure, keeping me idling on the edge.
“Look at me, Stell,” he says. I do, I am, I have been, but this time, I look at him through the haze of pleasure. Then I see him.
Cracked wide open, I see Riggins staring at me. He’s open and honest, and I see it all. The guilt, the fear, the anxiety, the sadness.
But I also see the love.
It’s like he’s trying to show me why he really came home. It wasn’t the marriage or the town or the music.
It was me. It was us. It was because just like me, he has only been half alive for nearly a decade and he’s tired of living without me.
“You’re back,” I whisper like it finally makes sense to me.
“I am,” he says, his voice a heated, strained whisper. He continues to fuck me. “I am, Stella, and I’m not going anywhere. You were made to be mine. You were made for me. And I’m back. Now fall. Fall, and do it saying my name,” he says, then slams into me, grinding as he does.
“Riggins!” I shout, my eyes slamming shut, my head tipping back.
And I come.
I come hard, stars shooting behind my eyelids as my eyes slam shut. The room goes quiet; the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heart. Pleasure cascades through me, my back arching, my hips tipping to try and get him in deeper still. And then I hear his deep groan of my name that reverberates through me, launching a smaller second orgasm through me as I feel him fill me, pulsing.
We stay like that for long, long minutes before he rolls off me, and we lay next to each other.
“God, I missed you,” I say. A moment passes and I continue to stare at the ceiling, drained in the best possible way, pleasure still lightly simmering beneath my veins.
And then, the next beat, I’m being pulled into Riggins’ chest, his booming laugh filling the room.
And it, too, feels right.
23 YOUR NEEDS, MY NEEDS
