I was so fucking terrified of being owned again, of losing my autonomy and choice—it’s why I kept myself out of relationships and away from that possibility for years.
But with Peytor, it seemed an impossible task.
“Say it’s okay, Folami. Even if it’s just for now,” Peytor whispered as he rocked against me. I drew my forehead back to look into his grey eyes, swirling with lust, conviction, and something deeper—something I didn’t want to put a label on in that moment.
“Yes, Peytor. It’s okay.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Peytor thrust completely inside me, stretching my walls and filling me completely. I gasped at the intrusion and, with no time to catch my breath, mewled as Peytor began to move in earnest, pulling me toward him with every thrust.
All I could do was hold on and enjoy every minute. From this angle, his dick reached the farthest place inside me, the one that had heat coiling in my gut with every thrust and wetness leaking from my pussy to coat his cock. His pelvis rubbed against my clit with each thrust, reducing me to nothing more than moans and panted exclamations of “yes, Peytor, just like that.”
At one point he swirled his hips, causing his pelvis to gyrate against my clit with the perfect pressure while stroking that spotdeep inside. The motion had me detonating around him with a scream that I buried into his shoulder.
Peytor huffed a laugh as he continued to pull my hips down with each thrust, fucking me through my orgasm straight into a second.
As soon as my stomach muscles contracted, my pussy squeezed his cock, and I felt a gush of wetness as it escaped my pussy.
“Oh, fuck, Folami. Fuck,” Peytor moaned. The extra lubrication caused him to slip and glide inside my pussy with little resistance and the sound of wet fucking filled the quiet room as Peytor increased his already punishing pace.
“I’m going to come, Fo. Do you want it? Or do you want me to come on your stomach?” He panted, his thrusts growing erratic.
I laid bonelessly on his shoulder, my sweat-soaked body sliding against his as I lost myself to the pleasure.
“Inside me,” I panted. He’d never finished in me before, respecting the fact that I wasn’t entirely sure about the prospect of a second child, but today I wanted to feel as close to him as possible—I wanted to feel his cum drip down my thighs and dry there, a physical reminder of his desire.
“Oh, fuck, Folami. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peytor chanted as he thrust deep inside me before he pulled my hips flush against his own with a loud groan. I felt his dick twitch inside me as he came. I expected him to pull out immediately, but was pleasantly surprised when he gathered me closer to him and laid us down on the bed together, still connected in the most intimate of ways.
We lay together in his small bed, naked, sweaty, and sated, our panting breaths slowly evening out. Neither Peytor nor I said much, our bodies doing most of the talking earlier, and he gently traced lazy patterns on my back while I did the same to his chest.
We were such a contrast, he and I, with his alabaster skin and my ebony complexion. A dichotomy and tale of two opposites, inmore ways than just our physical appearances. But I liked it. I liked that I could be soft with him, and only him. I liked that he trusted me, respected me, listened to me.
Is this what love is?
The only love I knew was the all-encompassing feeling I had for my daughter. The type of love that would send me into danger without a moment’s hesitation if it meant protecting her.
That was not what this was.
This was slower, a gentler thing that built over time. Like the bricks of a house slowly growing and adding until you were encased in something so real, so protective.
“I love you, Folami,” Peytor whispered, jarring me from my thoughts. It was as if he read my mind, and I pushed up on my elbow to look at him under me. His face was open, completely unguarded, which was just another thing that I admired about him. Even after all the trauma he endured—the death of his lover at the hands of his sister, the time in the mines—he still opened himself to the softer things in life.
“I know it’s different for you, and you may never say it in return, but I needed you to know before you leave,” he said as one hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb gently caressing my face. “You’ve been the greatest blessing for me, something I never would have dreamed I could have again. And I needed you to know how much I appreciate and love you.”
I turned my face slightly so I could kiss his palm, the words at the tip of my tongue but unable to spill from my mouth, no matter how desperately I wanted to utter them.
“Finian would have liked you, too,” he whispered sadly, a lone tear escaping from the side of his eye, which I reached out and wiped away. I didn’t mind that he talked about Finian when we lay together, or that he still harbored emotions for his best-friend-turned-lover. Finian was his first love—someone taken away from him far too soon, and I know the ‘what-ifs’ plaguedhim during his darkest nights. Just like my own trauma did to me.
We were just two broken people trying to find a way to smooth our jagged edges.
I laid my head back on his chest and listened to the comforting sound of his heartbeat, memorizing its cadence and rhythm.
“Can Itanya sleep in here while I’m gone?” I asked into his chest, and my cheek vibrated with his hum.
“I already had a rollaway bed requested so I can sleep on the floor while she takes this bed,” he said, and I smiled before clutching him closer to me, tangling my legs with his.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and he simply kissed the top of my head once, then twice before setting back on the pillow.
“Sleep for a bit. I know you have to go back to your room, that you want to be with her. But I’m going to be selfish and ask that you lie right here for now.”
My smile grew wider at his request.
