He growled a little. “Don’t. Let me taste you, and then I’ll give you what you want.”
He speared his tongue up, fucking into her cunt. Her taste coated his tongue, spicy and female, so rich he thought he might drown in it. He worked a hand under her, his fingers toying with the plug in her ass, pressing in and making her writhe under him. Her breath came out in short gasps as he let his tongue run the length of her pussy, sucking at her labia, drawing each side in one at a time. He licked his way up, darting the tip around her clit, never touching her, always teasing.
“Lee, please. Please.” Her whole body was quaking, but it was apparent she was trying so hard to follow his commands.
He gave her one long last lick and then came up on his knees, reaching across her for the condom he’d left on the nightstand. Even though he’d come in her mouth just moments before, he was hard and aching for her again. It was the same way every night. As soon as he’d fucked her senseless and thought for sure he was satisfied, he’d catch sight of her smile or her hand would brush across his chest and he would be hard again, as though he just couldn’t stop wanting her. He’d fuck her over and over until they both fell asleep, his a sweet dreamless rest that meant the world to him. While he’d been in her bed, he hadn’t dreamed about that day, had been able to shove it aside. Every part of his being had been focused on her, on training her, teaching her pleasure.
He rolled the condom over his erection and let his chest find hers. Hard nipples rubbed against his skin, a contrast to the pillowy breast. He kissed her. “This is how you taste to me.”
His tongue found hers and slid alongside, tasting his own saltiness there. They kissed, their essences mingling as their tongues played and danced. His cock found her pussy, rubbing against it and foraging in.
Her nails bit into his back as she gasped when he twisted his hips and forced his way in. Her cunt was so bloody tight, nearly strangling his cock. He thrust as far as he could, and then he was the one moaning as the plug dragged against his cock.
So tight. So sweet. So bloody good.
He let her lips go and reared up to his elbows, readjusting her so she could take his full length with every hard thrust of his body. Her legs came around his waist, and he felt the plug slip out, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of those walls gripping him, her legs and nails digging into him, so desperate to keep him inside.
“Oh, god, Lee. Lee. Lee.” She called his name over and over again as her pussy clenched and she came. He fucked in and out, picking up the pace, using her as roughly as he chose because she could handle it. He sank his hands into her hair and let his face bury itself in her neck as he fucked deep one last time and gave up his come.
He let his body slump, covering her and weighing her down. She didn’t protest, just wrapped her arms around him and held him close. He breathed in her scent and rested his head on her chest. This was what he’d longed for. Peace. Comfort. The feel of his blood strumming through his body while her heart pounded against his ear.
He could sleep this way. He could sleep and not dream of anything but her.
He was just drifting off when he heard her sniffle.
His head came up, and he was shocked at the sight. She was crying, tears dripping down her face.
“Avery? Avery, did I hurt you?” He tried to think. He wasn’t any rougher on her than he’d been in the past. She’d been so aroused it shouldn’t have bothered her.
She shook her head as he practically jumped off her. He started looking for bruising or anything that would explain the tears. “I’m not hurt. Not physically.”
This was what she’d been holding in all day. He’d felt it, been afraid of it. He rolled the condom off and tossed it in the garbage before sitting on the bed. “Just tell me.”
“I don’t want to.” She bit her lip, her eyes turning down as though she suddenly found the bedspread deeply interesting.
He reached out, forcing her chin up. “Avery, this can’t work if you won’t talk to me. I’m supposed to comfort you but you won’t even acknowledge that something’s wrong. Do I mean that little to you? Am I just the guy who fucks you?”
“How can you say that?” She breathed the question out.
“Because you don’t want to talk to me about anything important. You talk about work and what you like on TV and what books you read, but you don’t talk about your past. You don’t talk about…” He just couldn’t say it. He knew he was being a hypocrite, but it didn’t matter.