It was like it was in the hal of my house, hard, fast, deep and I was coming close to orgasm just from the velvet violence of it.
Then al of a sudden his hand glided down the back of my leg, lifted it at the knee and he slid out of me. He rol ed me to my bel y, repositioned between my legs and, hands at my hips, he pul ed me up, just the lower half of my body and then he was inside me again.
I felt a moment of being stunned then it melted away. He could go deeper that way, harder, and God, it felt good. I pushed my hips into him, curled my fingers into the covers at the sides of my head and little mewing noises came from my throat that I couldn’t control.
It would seem impersonal, him being so far away but he didn’t let it. His hands went from my hips, fingertips brushing my behind, the smal of my back, softly then back to hold my hips.
That was al nice even fantastic but better yet the position felt naughty and it was simply, downright hot.
I was close, the noises I was making were getting urgent and he pul ed out and flipped me around again. He dropped to his side, his arms went around me then he went to his back, taking me with him, rol ing me on top.
“Don’t stop!” I cried (kind of loud and snappish) but he just stared into my eyes, pul ed my legs up on either side of him, guided himself inside and sat up.
Um.
Wow.
His head was tilted back, eyes stil on me and I looked down at him.
“I wanna see your face when you come,” he murmured.
Um.
Wow, again.
My arms went around his shoulders and immediately I started to move, my mouth at his, we were both breathing hard, not kissing, lips just touching. It didn’t take long before my Grade Nine and Three Quarters bypassed Grade Ten and went straight to Grade Thirteen and a Half.
*
I shivered. “I’m cold,” I whispered, face in his neck, lips at his ear.
He reached across the bed and pul ed the blanket over us. I was stil on top, stil astride him, my torso against his, my knees pressed against his sides.
I was trying to quiet my mind.
Once he covered us his arms went back around me and he held me pressed tight against him.
We hadn’t used protection again which was another thing I did not need. This time I understood that it was out of either of our control. But we were playing Russian roulette with my ovaries and eventual y my ovaries were going to succumb to the bul et.
Gently he rol ed me to the side, stil under the blanket and he moved away.
“Furnace,” was al he said and he was gone.
I lay there alone, under the blanket while he went to turn on the furnace. I hadn’t realized how cold it was inside but then again it was colder outside and I’d been half frozen when I walked in.
At this though, my mind final y stil ed and that side effect that I thought before was annoying now seemed charming because the ridiculous thoughts didn’t hit me. What just happened came over me in a humiliating rush.
Everyone told me he was a player. He’d get into my panties and even as pissed off as I was and he was, he did and I’d let him. I hadn’t begged him with words but my body had done it and I hated myself for it.
I got up, wrapped the blanket around me and was trying to pul my underwear on when he walked in.
He was naked, apparently oblivious to the cold, looking beautiful (as usual). His ponytail had come out somewhere along the way. There was a clean, white bandage wrapped around his thigh where he’d been shot and behind him the house was dark.
“Don’t do that,” he said to me.
“I’m going home,” I told him, stil trying to get the panties up under the big blanket. I was no longer looking at him but anywhere else. “Can I borrow your truck? You can pick it up from the Shelter tomorrow. I’l give May the keys.” He came forward as I was stil fighting with my panties and he hustled me, moving me gently but firmly back, around, over, his arm coming around my waist to hold me to him. He leaned down and flipped back the cover. I wasn’t much use fighting him and trying to keep the blanket around me and my panties in place at the same time. Then my hands gave up on my underwear and they dropped to the floor. I was trying instead to keep hold of the blanket at the same time I was slapping at his hands. I lost that battle too.
He pul ed the blanket away from me, tossed it on the bed, he leaned into me and we went down.
I tried to rol away while he pul ed the comforter back but he caught me and rol ed me to him face-to-face, his arms going around me.
I stil ed and stopped fighting. I knew I wouldn’t win, no matter how many moves I knew.
“I’m going home,” I said, looking at him.
He didn’t say anything.
I closed my eyes tight and dipped my chin so I wouldn’t see his face. Then I opened them again and said what I had to say.
“Please, Vance. I can’t stay here now,” my voice was barely audible, “not after that.”
“What was wrong with that?” he asked.
“It was humiliating.”
It was his turn to stil . “How was it humiliating?”