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I nod, my body ready for the pleasure, ready to lose myself to her. “Okay,” I agree.
She reaches her arms out straight and wiggles ten fingers at me. “Hands,” she orders. I reach for her and we weave our fingers together, and I’m glad I’m already inside of her. I throb and leak a little from the feeling of connection we have.
She rolls her hips into me, and it’s the fucking strangest and best sensation. My legs open, our linked hands keeping my knees spread. I feel so vulnerable this way, but it's freeing, too.
I like relinquishing control, knowing it gives her comfort and peace, and makes her feel good. Selfishly it makes me feel good, too.
Hips jutting forward, my cock pulled back and up toward her as she fucks herself on my cock. The position is new and hot; I’m on my back with her straddling my thighs and simultaneously spreading me open so I can see her tits swaying. Our moans escalating as my cock slides in and out of her, at her will.
I can’t take my eyes off the sight of my veiny dick disappearing inside of her, over and over, her swollen pink lips hugging my shaft with each needful stroke.
I’ve never had sex this way, with a woman fucking me and herself on my cock? I don’t even understand but I stop trying. My head cranes from the bed, my back sweaty against my cool sheets.
“You feel so good,” she breathes, her eyes rolling closed. She pumps herself on me a few more times before telling me to keep my hands on my knees and my legs open and apart. Hearing her say that was fucking hot. Sliding her hands down my calves, she grabs my ankles. Her ankle digs into my hip as she moves faster and faster, my cock sliding in and out of her more urgently. I can see myself in her position, fucking her on the edge of the bed this way. I never considered a role reversal in this position, with her fucking us both on my cock, but goddamn I love it.
Sweat coats her belly and her hands slide along the hair on my ankles. I feel everything. Every bent hair, every roll of sweat, every bead of precum that spills into her with each aggressive thrust.
My orgasm cyclones my core, tapering down to my groin, rocketing up through my shaft. My voice is hoarse but I call her name in warning. “Scar.”
She sinks all the way down, clenching and spasming, her heated orgasm spilling out around me in warm, wet waves. It’s messy and fucking perfect. Her eyes close as her pussy seizes around my length, and the sight overwhelms me. Her orgasm threatens to milk me with how tight she convulses, the breathy little moans she releases into my space.
“Scar,” I try again, clenching my ass and core, letting her use my cock, letting her finish. Her pulsing slows and her eyes open, finding the urgency in mine immediately. She rises to the balls of her feet and slides me out of her, my cock slapping down on my belly.
That belly slap, and the sight of her engorged, well-fed cunt send me over.
I reach down and grab myself just as my cock lifts with a twitch, sending the first rope of release sailing along my belly and pecs.
She knocks my hand away as my head falls back, stroking me slowly, rolling her thumb over my slit as I burst.
When I’m nothing more than a hollow chest, a canvas of white and am utterly speechless, she appears above me. Lips against mine, she whispers, “That was perfect. You’re so good to me, Cohen, so good.”
We share an unhurried kiss and I realize how much she needed the first time to be in her control, how she needed to prove to herself that there is still safe sex. That I can give her that.
“How are you?” I ask, cobwebs hanging in my voice. “Are you okay?”
She presses her naked body to mine, and cum smears hot and thick between us. I don’t hate it. Her little moan tells me she doesn’t either.
“I’m so good, because you make me feel so good.” Our mouths come together, and her tongue sweeps along mine. She pulls back and our gazes meet. Her lips part, eyes studying me so intensely my stomach knots. My heart pounds in my ears.
But before she says anything, she slides off me, calling back to me that she’s going to get a towel.
The spell is broken, and if she was going to say something weighty and profound, she waited. The same way I waited on what I wanted to say earlier. I respect her timing, and while I want her to say those words to me, I let her clean me and tell her all about the dinner we have waiting in the crock pot on the counter.
After another shower, one where we share the hot stream of water and soapy sponge, taking care to wash each other. I lock the door and close the blinds as she gets comfortable in my bed, and when I slide in and she draws my head to her chest, I find myself asleep before I can even stress about what’s left to be said.
Because we had sex.
And that’s a big step for us both, and enough for tonight.
“I can’t Cohen, seriously, I’m so full,” Scarlett whines, sitting topless at the small dining table. Well, not just topless. Completely nude.
When I asked her if she likes being naked because it’s comfortable, you know, because of the porn star role, she shook her head. She said, “I like the way I feel when you look at me. I feel so good, and I just want that feeling all the time.”
I told her I look at her the same with clothes on, and her response? “But you get hard looking at me naked, and I like looking at you hard. It’s a win-win.”
Talented and smart to boot. Can’t argue with that.
“Are you sure you don’t want a little more?” I ask, sifting the spatula around the pan of scrambled egg whites. Scarlett lived on protein bars and God only knows what else when she was with Pe—not with me. I no longer want to speak his name.
