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“You already are,” I respond breathily, remaining still beneath him. This relaxes him; I can tell immediately by the way the muscles of his chest seem to soften against me. “Don’t stop.”
Smiling against my neck, he starts slowly thrusting in and out, his finger working me beautifully. I clench tightly around him, telling him with my core to go deeper but letting him decide. He moans loudly into my neck, his body shuddering.
Ten minutes pass of this, ten torturous minutes of every cell in me burning on the edge of a climax. I need release so badly and so does he, yet he continues at a slow grinding pace, never fully entering me and never leaving me entirely.
A gasp escapes me when he lurches upwards, his body going tight behind me. His cock swells almost double in thickness and a groan of pain leaves him. I stay perfectly still, my face buried in the soft bed sheets, my hands gripping them tight.
“Let go,” I say, needing to feel him come inside me, needing to feel him pulse and buck with the pleasure that my body has given him.
A long rush of air leaves his lungs and I feel his cock begin to calm itself. It’s disappointing but I can understand why he wants to last longer. It feels bloody brilliant.
“Please,” I beg, desperately needing release now. “Deeper.”
He pulls out. “I can’t.” I’m about to sob and beg for mercy, but it’s stifled by the feel of two long, leather clad fingers entering me.
A choked scream climbs its way up my chest as he rubs against the spot on the inner wall that makes everything feel magnificent. Fingers on my clit and fingers inside me whilst in this position, this is new.
An orgasm tears through me within moments, his fingers doing what three inches of his cock couldn’t do moments ago. My body shudders and shakes, my knees especially.
“Oh god,” I pant, feeling the ripples of the end of my climax return to my stomach.
Nathan leans forward and kisses my shoulder. In one quick swoop, I’m in his arms and I’m being deposited on the bed, under the blankets, my body nothing but jelly. When I squeeze my thighs together I feel my wetness and the tingles that remain.
“I’ll be right back,” he says against my lips and hastily leaves the room.
Sigh. He didn’t climax, yet again.
I rest back on the pillows, pulling the blanket over my breasts. There’s no need to think about it this time; it’s pointless. I promised him two weeks of silence before I start asking him everything I want to ask. I’ll give him his two weeks.
He’s certainly taking his time.
Padding out of the bedroom when he doesn’t return after almost ten minutes, I knock on the bathroom door. The sound of the shower running probably covers up the knock. With a sigh I go back into my room and sit on the bed.
Nathan returns, wearing a dark vest and his dark boxers. Damn his body is amazing. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes full of adoration. It does little to soothe my unease over the situation.
“The shower is free.” His voice is gentle. That was a hint if I’ve ever heard one.
“Right,” I mutter, feeling extremely embarrassed right now. “I’ll go and shower.”
He blinks, realisation dawning. “It’s me, not you. We both got a little bit sweaty.” I really don’t want to know that I smell bad, it’s humiliating. “I don’t like sweat.”
“Whatever,” I sigh, exhaustion settling in.
He watches me for a moment, his eyes holding an emotion I can’t quite figure out. Or maybe I’m just too tired to try. “Gwen…”
“Don’t, I’m just tired.” Is it going to be like this every time we have sex? Are we just not compatible? Maybe that’s it.
“I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere but I just don’t want to hear it right now.
“I know you are.”
“Gwen.” he reaches over and takes my hand in his. A flash of feeling and memory at where that hand has just been makes my cheeks heat slightly and my stomach clench in appreciation. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”
His words make my chest ache with a brutal pain that seems intent on slicing me open. I look towards his sad eyes and realise that he must feel just as embarrassed and as badly as I do, if not more. It’s all well and good me sitting here moaning that he’s not performing the way I expect him to, but how must he feel knowing he finally has the woman he loves and can’t perform the way he knows he should?
Just like that, every single tinge of annoyance and anger leaves my body. I roll over, not caring if he hates my sweat right now. I need to hold him.
To my shock, he returns the embrace and pushes me onto my back. “I’m trying.” He whispers so close to my mouth I can scent the mint on his breath and feel it on my lips.
