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I come and I come, my breath ragged. She drags her nails down my back and I hope she’s marked me.
And when I slowly float down from the high, my eyes catch hers. I check that she’s okay, that she’s still breathing.
Our lips brush and my chest feels so tight I’m wondering if I’m about to have a heart attack.
“So good,” I mutter against her lips. “You’re killing me.”
“I died first.”
I slowly pull out of her, aware of her stickiness, the mess I left behind. I kiss her again and roll out of bed.
“Are you going?”
I sit on the mattress and look at her. “What?”
“Are you leaving?”
Is she serious? Who hurt this woman?
“No. I’m going to find something to clean you up with.” I look at the door on the far side of her bedroom. “Is that your bathroom?”
She nods.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
On the shelves where her towels are stacked I find a washcloth and put it under the faucet, wetting it with warm water. I take it back to her, along with a towel, and slowly wipe away the pleasure I just left.
“Why would you ask me if I’m leaving?” I dry her with the towel. She has the prettiest pussy. I want to kiss it again.
“I just thought…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What did you think?”
“That maybe you didn’t enjoy it.”
“You felt me come, didn’t you?” I ask her. “You heard me roar like a fucking lion. What part of that makes you think I didn’t enjoy it?”
Her cheeks are red. “I don’t know.”
“Has somebody left you right after sex before?”
She nods. And I’m feeling like an animal again, but in all the wrong ways. She’s so vulnerable right now. And the last thing she needs is to see how pissed I am. Because I know she’ll think it’s because of her.
And it isn’t. It’s because of all the assholes who’ve made her feel less than she is.
Who haven’t appreciated what they have.
The irony of it is, if they’d appreciated her she wouldn’t be here. They would have snapped her up and kept her with them, the same way I want to.
“I don’t want to leave,” I tell her. “Right now, I’m wondering how sore you are and how long I need to wait before I can bury my face between your legs again.”
I take her hand and put it on me. Her eyes widen when she feels how hard I am.
“I’m not twenty anymore,” I tell her. “I’m not supposed to get hard right again after sex, but that’s what you do to me.”
She runs her tongue along her bottom lip. “I’m not that sore,” she whispers, sending a tremor of anticipation right through me.
I push it away.
