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I kiss his back. “I’m trying not to.”
“Trying.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Trying is not doing.” He flicks off the stove, smashes a lid onto the pan and turns. “Look at you,” he says, advancing on me.
I back up. “Look at me what?”
He reaches out but I move just out of his grasp and turn. And run. His place is huge and you can run in it. I make it to the living room.
Rough hands grab me, turn me around to face him. He grabs the shirt and rips it open, then pushes me down to the couch.
A condom appears. We fuck furiously, hands grasping, teeth grazing. His hot weight pins me.
He pulls up my leg to get deeper.
I hold his hair, taking him, pain and pleasure mingling.
He smashes his sweaty forehead to my chest when he comes. I stop pulling his hair and just kiss it, coming down from my orgasm and enjoying his.
I kiss his hair as he comes. He’s everything.
He flops over at my side.
He gets this serious look. “It was never like this.” He slides a hank of my hair through two fingers, with an expression like it’s the most amazing hair he’s ever felt.
“Me, too,” I say.
He seems to like that. He watches me with such warmth and affection. It feeds my soul. “I’m glad,” he says. “That was unbelievable. I wanted to do everything to you.”
“You kind of did.”
“Oh, hardly.”
“Oh, hardly.” I smile. “I love to feel you come inside me. I love how your body feels.”
“I love how you breathe,” he says. “Sometimes you just breathe and I want you.”
I kiss him on the nose.
“And that biting thing…”
“Yeah?” I smile.
“Yeah,” he says. “And that wet finger thing.”
I narrow my eyes. “What wet finger thing?”
“You know. The touch.”
I furrow my brow, trying to think what he means.
“When you lightly touched my asshole with your wet finger? It was…hot.”
I frown. God, was I in that much of a fugue state? “I wasn’t doing anything like that.”
“You just touched it, really lightly.”
I study his eyes, trying to figure out if he’s joking or what. That’s when Smuckers jumps up and runs over the back of the couch, looking down at us, tail wagging, tongue hanging out. “Oh…” I say.
“What? What’s wrong?” He follows the direction of my gaze, and a look of horror comes over him.
