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Grant gives me a few gentle strokes before he removes his hand and falls down onto the bed beside me. He pulls me toward him, hugging me tightly again. He’s breathing just as heavily as I am.
“You did so good,” he murmurs against my hair.
“I can’t believe how hard I came.” I’m still snuffling, my eyes and nose running. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No. I told you. I needed it like that.”
“Okay.”
My body is deliciously relaxed, but his is still tense. I reach down to his boxer briefs and feel how hard he is. Fully erect. I squeeze him through the fabric, and he groans.
“If you don’t feel like doing more,” he begins. “I can just—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I feel like more. And I’m not going to leave you like this. I want you to fuck me.”
“How do you want it?”
Again, I’m almost ashamed of the confession, but I tell him anyway. “Hard. Like before. I need it hard.”
His body tightens palpably, and his cock twitches against my hand. He clearly wants it like I do. “Turn over onto your stomach and lift your ass.”
I do as he says without question, arousal starting to pulse inside me again as soon as I raise my bottom into the air. He gets on his knees behind me, parts my butt cheeks, and edges his cock into my slightly sore pussy.
I hide my face in the mattress and groan long and loud.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks when he’s buried inside me.
A little, but not much. And the ache is so, so good. “This is how I want it. Please.”
He starts to pump his hips, slow and rhythmic for a minute, but he can’t sustain that pace for long. Soon he’s rutting like an animal, pushing into me so hard I can barely brace my body. He’s grunting loud with every instroke, and I’m muffling my helpless cries into the mattress.
It feels like he’s going to come at any moment. He can’t last very long like this. I’m not quite there yet, but I don’t even mind. I love the way he’s about to lose control.
From me. From fucking me. Such a strong, reserved man about to completely lose it over me.
He makes a long, stretched sound and lets go of my butt cheek, which he’s been holding in a bruising grip. Then he smacks the side of my bottom with his palm, making a sharp slapping sound.
The unexpected sensation of the spank pushes me immediately into orgasm. I come in an intense rush just before he yanks his cock out. He comes in hard spurts on my back and bottom, making rough, broken noises that don’t quite form words.
We both collapse back into the bed, wet and messy and boneless and exhausted. After a few minutes, he’s collected himself enough to gather me back into a loose hug. “Y’okay?” he rasps, the same way he asked me before.
“Yeah. Better now. I needed that.”
He pauses before he admits, “Me too.”
I burrow close to him, finally feeling sated, like what I craved has been answered.
It doesn’t really make sense to want that kind of sex right now. I should want gentleness. Softness. Comfort. Not rough sex in the dark with no romantic words or tender caresses.
With a man who’s never once admitted he cares for me even a little.
But he gave me what I needed tonight. He’s never not been there when I need him.
Maybe it doesn’t matter if he loves me or not. Maybe that’s not the world we live in anymore, and maybe it’s naive to want or expect it.
Maybe none of that means what it used to.
I do realize one thing as I lie against his warm, relaxed body and listen to his heavy breathing.
Things might change tomorrow. Or the day after. Or a week from now.
But, at this moment, all I have left in the world is him.
