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My hand moves lower, rubbing the spot just above where she’s stretched around me. Her inner muscles clench tighter. I push as deep as possible, ensuring we’re as connected as two people can be. Making sure she’s feeling every inch.
Then, I start to move, sliding out before pumping in hard and fast. Lyla pushes back against me, meeting every thrust. Her breathing turns harsh and erratic, her moans into pants. She’s close. I can tell as her pussy flutters and her legs tremble. With a lengthy groan, she comes, spasming around me and sinking into the mattress.
I keep pounding into her, prolonging her orgasm and then pushing her toward a new one as she keeps pulsing around me.
“Nick,” she moans.
“You’re going to come for me again. Look at you, taking my cock so well.”
She arches her back, and all of a sudden, I want to see her face. I pull out and flip her over, then shove back in with a sudden thrust from a different angle.
“Oh myGod.” Her head tilts back, exposing the elegant column of her throat as her legs wind around me. She pulls me closer, running her hands down my back.
I pound into her, losing any finesse or rhythm. It’s raw and animalistic. Desperate and unhinged.
I feel her come, tight, hot spasms that make it impossible not to let go. Heat races down my spine and settles in my balls as I fill the condom, a devastating, mind-numbing sensation that wipes everything else away for a minute.
The delay from when I finish to when I pull out is too long. We both linger, savoring something that shouldn’t matter after we’ve both come.
I stand and walk into the adjoining bathroom, relying on memory to navigate my way across the dark room. I flick on the bathroom light and pull off the condom, tossing it into the trash can before taking a piss.
Lyla appears in the doorway right as I flush. She’s still completely naked, her hair tousled and her skin marked by my mouth. She walks past me and uses the toilet while I wash my hands. It’s incredibly domestic and insanely erotic.
I can feel her eyes on me the whole time we move around one another. The bathroom is big, but it feels small right now.
Lyla saw me naked in here before, but this is the first time I’m really able to see her. She’s conscious of my eyes on her body, almost knocking my cologne off the counter and rinsing her hands twice as long as is necessary. Her fingers are probably pruned by the time she’s finished the process.
I walk back into the bedroom first, sliding under the covers that have cooled in the absence of any body heat. Lyla fidgets. The bathroom light is still on, backlighting her profile as she glances between the bed and the door.
“Stay,” I say, then roll onto my back so I’m staring at the ceiling.
I don’t sleep with women.
It’s not about them. It has nothing to do with preserving feelings or avoiding clinginess. My reasoning is tied to trust and safety.
You’re most vulnerable in sleep.
It’s how my father was killed. His favorite mistress, Anna, planted a bomb on the yacht in the middle of the night and then jumped ship—literally. It was a cruel twist of fate that my uncle and two brothers both went on board the next morning for a meeting. The rival family who paid Anna off got more than they paid for, wiping out almost the entirety of the Morozov bloodline in one go. Unfortunately for them, I was on another continent.
“I don’t have to…”
Even without looking over, I know Lyla is chewing on her bottom lip. Based on how surprised she was to find me still in her bed this morning, she has hang-ups about sleeping together in a nonsexual sense as well.
“Stay,” I repeat, firmer.
She says nothing. But I feel her approach. Relax as her body settles into the space beside mine.
We lie there, side by side, in the dark, and it’s almost as intimate as the sex was.
“Should I keep shaving?” Lyla whispers after a few minutes of silence.
I hesitate before answering. I’m not sure if she’s asking to suss out if I’m hoping to see her pussy again or if she’s honestly asking my body hair preferences.
“I’ll want to fuck you either way,” I finally say.
“I wanted to try something different,” she mumbles. “Sometimes…I don’t know. It can be harder to feel sexy as a mom, I guess.”
“I find you very sexy, especially as a mom.”
