“Jo,” I rasp. “I’m gonna come if you do that again.” Pausing, I gather myself, trying to reign in my control, because nothing has ever felt so right.
With slow movements, I rock in and out, whispering praises.
“You’re doing so good, love.” The word spills from my lips without thinking. “It’s like we were made for each other.”
She nods, wrapping her legs around my waist allowing me to sink even deeper into her tight heat. Jo arches up into me, and I feel the tips of her nails dig into my back, leaving tiny half-moons, proof that we are real, this woman I thought was forever gone from my life.
Lowering my head, Jo sighs when my lips reach the soft line of her clavicle, trailing open mouthed, hungry kisses up her neck. Her pulse flutters wildly beneath my lips, her hips undulating against me, slow at first, then quickening to a frantic, needy pace.
Matching her pace, I thrust deep, the headboard of her bed moving in sync with our love making. Her fingers trail down my back, nails sinking deeper into the skin there adding intense pleasure with that slight bite of pain. Then she surprises me by threading her fingers through my hair and leaning up to kiss me. We’re connected in every way possible, and I fucking love it. I can practically hear the wordmine, mine, minethrumming to the beat of my pounding heart.
Already so close to the edge, I know I won’t last much longer like this.
“Tyler,” Jo pants. “I think I’m about to come.”
Raising up slightly, I press two fingers to her lips, coaxing Jo to take them into her mouth.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Get them nice and wet for me.”
She follows directions so sweetly and I reward her by pressing my fingers to her swollen clit, circling slowly then faster, her inner walls immediately fluttering around me.
Jo cries out, spiraling out her climax, and I soon follow, our heaving breaths mingling in the dark. Pressing my lips to hers, the urge is there to confess how I feel, but I think it instead.
I love you. I’ve loved you for fourteen years. I will always love you.
The second time I give myself completely to Tyler is in the witching hour of the night, silver moonlight casting shadows around my room. I must have fallen into a deep sleep, our naked bodies tangled in the sheets.
Tyler stirs me awake, kissing across my cheeks, along my jaw, and down the curve of my neck to my shoulder. His hardness nudges against me, and I respond instinctively, wrapping one leg around his waist. I draw him into me with a soft gasp, my body already slick with need, and he sinks in deep.
We move together face to face, eyes locked. The world stills around us, just the sound of our love making, and it’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever known. It’s as though I can hear a million unsaid words passing between our joined bodies. This moment between us, it feels almost sacred. Though I’ve long since lost faith in religion, I recognize what holy feels like. Tonight, it’s my body, moving together with this man who was once just a guy I met. No, that’s not true. For one night he was everything. The two of us were infinite and then were lost. But against all odds, every single one of them, we found each other again, wholly different but still the same.
The intensity of my release leaves my body trembling andTyler holds me through it, his own release spilling into me seconds later. He pulls me even closer till we’re chest to chest and we lie in the dark, him trailing fingers up and down my back until we both come down from our climax. Tyler finally stands to grab a cloth from the bathroom and he lowers to clean me up.
With half-lidded eyes, I watch him tend to me, and as he’s climbing back into bed, pulling me close, this thought occurs to me.
All this time, I thought I wanted to fan the tiny, burning ember in my heart. But I’ve had it wrong. So very wrong.
I want—no, need—newness. I need a spring rain, the kind that arrives after the harshest winter, drenching me in its sweetness creating newness where nothing existed before.
I want to burrow into him until I carry his scent like a second skin, until his very presence lingers, clinging to the threads of my clothing. I’d breathe it in until it softens the vortex of noise that forever hums inside my mind. I want to stumble across a memory of him in the middle of an ordinary day, pulling me from whatever I’m doing with such quiet tenderness. I want to lie with him, my fingertips speaking words I’ve dared not say aloud, tracing confessions across the rise and fall of his chest—silence shutting out the world. And one morning, I want to wake, not knowing where he begins and I end.
These are my postcoital musings as I allow sleep to claim me, wrapped in the warmth of Tyler’s body.
I bolt upright at the sound of a key rattling in the front door. Oh my god, oh my god. Abby must be home early, since I haven’t yet entrusted Jay with a house key. Shit, shit, shit.
“Tyler.” I give his shoulder a shove. “Tyler, wake up.”
“What?” he asks, voice sleep graveled.
I’m already jumping from the bed, throwing on whatever clothes I can find.
“Abby’s home,” I say in a frantic whisper.
Tyler jumps up quickly and together we scramble around getting dressed. His pants are on but not zipped and he’s turning everything over.
“Where’s my shirt?”
I turn to him with wide eyes, and simultaneously we say, “Front door.”
