At Peace

After, Joe stayed planted deep, his hand tangled in my hair, the other one at my ass, his weight heavy on me, his mouth moving at my neck and it was then I realized I really was a slut.

Mike and I hadn’t had sex last night but we’d fooled around far more serious than ever before. Mike had given me an orgasm with his mouth and I’d returned the favor. I didn’t know why he pulled back from the act; maybe he sensed I wasn’t ready. But what we did was great, brilliant, he was a gentle lover (as far as I could tell), taking his time, like his stealth kisses, getting off on building the burn, patient but, in the end, demanding.

I’d liked it a lot.

But not nearly as much as what I just had.

Two orgasms from two different men in less than twelve hours.

Yes, I was a slut.

When I came to this conclusion, Joe moved, pulling out and moving me with him, righting us in bed, pulling the covers down, sliding us between them, shoving the comforter back and then pulling the sheet up to our waists.

I didn’t fight, struggle or say anything as he settled me into him. My mind was blank. No, not blank, frozen in disgust at myself.

Then I came back into the room and I saw that he’d slightly modified our usual position where I had my head to his shoulder, my body pressed to his side.

He’d pulled me partly over him, my cheek to his chest between his pecs, his fingers had wrapped around my wrist, positioning my arm around his hip, his knee had come up, hooking my leg with it so my calf fell between his legs and I was semi-straddling his thigh.

I could hear his heart beating, steady, strong. I’d never heard that before or never noticed it and its strength weirdly defined him. Strong, vital and alive.

And he’d also yanked the sheet over us, to our waists. This was something I did with him in between times, unconsciously doing it, completely comfortable with our nudity while we were in the act but feeling vulnerable when we weren’t. I’d pull the sheet up to our waists, not higher just there. Even after years with Tim, I’d done the same.

Tim had never pulled the sheet up. Joe noticed and he did.

And he remembered me, how I felt, even smelled. Like me, he remembered at night when we were apart.

I sucked in breath.

His fingers slid into my hair.

“It’ll take two months to renovate the house,” he said suddenly and I blinked then realized he was starting the conversation in the middle again and my stomach got warm and soft at the memory of something Joe, something I thought I’d never have back and I steeled myself against it but I knew this was a futile effort. “Took ‘em a day to gut it but it’ll take two months to renovate it,” he finished.

I stayed silent because I didn’t have anything to say but also because my mind was not frozen and blank anymore. Now there was so much in my brain, I couldn’t catch a thought.

“Girls’re gonna pick carpet, paint, cupboards, shit like that. That’s our deal,” Joe went on.

God, Keira would freaking love that. Kate too.

I was screwed.

“In return, I’m in town, I stay with you.”

My head came up with that and I looked at him and said, “Joe –”

I said no more because his hand was still in my hair. It slid to my neck and he yanked me up his body, lifting his thigh to assist him in this endeavor, its hardness pressed between my legs, an area still sensitive which meant this felt good. When my face was close to his, his hand went back into my hair and pulled my mouth down to his to give me a bruising but short open-mouthed kiss.

“Love it when you say my name, baby,” he muttered against my mouth when he was done. I felt my body soften, my jumbled head going blank again as I stared in his eyes and he went on. “Feel it in my dick every time.”

My head gave a small jerk and I blurted, “You do?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

I liked it when he grinned. He didn’t do it much so each time it felt like a gift.

But still, I said, “That’s weird.”

His grin became soft laughter and he rolled me to my back, mostly covering me with his body, his cocked thigh still pressed high between my legs.

“You don’t hear it when you say it,” he told me.

“I do hear it.”

“No, you’re not a guy so you hear it but you don’t. The way you say ‘Joe’, every man would wish that was their name.”

“Okay,” I replied because I really didn’t have anything else to say to that statement and because I was busy trying to ignore the lovely squishy feeling that statement made me feel.

He bent his head and kissed my neck then his hands started roaming and his thigh moved an inch higher.

I bit my lip.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?” he asked my neck.

“You, um… can’t stay here.” His head came out of my neck, his hands stilled and he looked at me so I forged ahead. “’Cause, um… Dane called and said the girls were fakin’ it, havin’ a good time. He and I made our own deal yesterday. I need to call them like, right now, and ask them to come home. They’ll be back Saturday and I promised Dane and his parents he could sleep on the couch.”

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