The other part knows she needs a tender touch to tease her out of the remaining fear that lingers on her skin, a tight, taut feeling that is tangible. I give her a long, languid kiss, wet and slow, waiting for her cues. When she starts to squirm under me, moving her legs so she’s pressed against my thigh, rubbing against me with a rhythm as she turns breathless, I know what to do next.
“My shoulder,” she gasps. “How can we do this? I’m -- ” She laughs as if this is crazy, as if her gunshot wound is her fault. As if she’s embarrassed by it.
“We’ll do it,” I respond, moving down her body, brushing kisses on her nipples. “Between your shoulder and my broken finger, we both have to adjust.” I continue kissing her in the fine valley between her breasts, down her creamy belly, then finally where she tastes like wordless nirvana.
I open her and she widens for me, urging with little sighs and her fingers in my hair. The pure joy of being invited to do this makes me rock hard. I want her so much. She wiggles, her body taking on a rhythm I follow, her voice begging as she says my name with increasing fervor.
My good hand slides under her, cupping her ass as my face and tongue move in whatever way I need to give her this. She deserves all the pleasure I can create, and I want her to take until she’s sated.
Abruptly, she stops me, her hand fisting my hair and pulling up. Our eyes meet and she is blazing, fired up with passion and trembling. She breathes hard, each exhale loud and hot.
Then she says,
“Let’s make this official. I want you in me, and I want you to make love to me. Please, Drew. Please. I want to come with you inside me. I want you more than I thought I could.”
Lindsay
“I will. Just wait,” he whispers, one hand on my breast, his thumb and index finger curling around my nipple, the taped pinkie finger hard and strange, but endearing. His other hand moves between my legs and oh! Oh!
He slips a finger inside me, three sensations all combining at one. Breast, clit, and that finger all work together in a choreographed way as all my thoughts dissolve, my body moving in whatever way it needs to seek more pleasure.
And then he licks me until I see heaven explode, his attentions so urgent, so determined to give me pleasure that I have to submit, have to give in, have to trust and release and thrust and lose myself in him.
I’m moaning his name, biting the end of my pillow, making sounds I didn’t know I could make, seeing colors that surely don’t exist anywhere but here as Drew drives home again and again that I am enough, that I count, too, that I deserve this and that he deserves me. He moves to make me confront my own ecstasy, not letting me avoid the orgasms, and then I explode again, as if the first time was just practice.
I go cold and numb, burn and feel everything, my exquisite ride along his tongue so dirty, so filthy, so perfect.
And then he’s kissing me, hard and loose, his mouth lingering with my taste, his hands everywhere, nowhere, and I have never wanted anyone to be between my legs so desperately as I want him now.
As he starts to enter me, my shoulder screams and I gasp, then cry out from panic.
“Wait,” he says, gently moving me over, pulling out. “You be on top. Sit up. Ride me, Lindsay. Ride me.” His eyes flash with erotic anticipation as I awkwardly trade places with him, our bodies slick and sweaty, until I’m on top of him, my thighs against his, my legs open and my good hand holding on to his abs for balance. As I slide down over him I suck in my breath, Drew imitating me.
My diamond glitters in the darkness, shining in the moonlight, splayed across his belly button, a reminder. All the rolling muscle of his torso moves like a pond rippling as a stone is thrown in, his body working hard to thrust up and catch me, his ass tightening with each wave.
“Lindsay, you feel so good. So hot. Oh,” he rasps as we move together, trying to find the right speed, the right angle.
I feel a keening deep within, a spark of recognition as he moves inside, with each thrust, each shift, each growing layer of love. The screams of demons and tormenters inside make way for cries of ecstasy as Drew's soul warms the dark corners of my own. My body is exposed for him, my sling bulky and in the way, but it’s all right.
This is real. This is real love.
This is real lovemaking.
He reaches up and squeezes both breasts at the same time, then skims my skin with his rough hands, finding my hips, grinding me into him, making me move just enough until my clit is in a new position, the extra friction wet and perfect against him. An orgasm starts in the core of my belly, riding through my lower body, rising up to the hollow of my throat, spreading to my nipples, my tongue, my back and shoulders. It takes over like a spirit animal soaring over sacred ground, riding over the plains in twilight, seeking truth.
“I love you,” Drew groans. “I’m about to -- ” He goes rigid, then moves fast, groans deep and resounding, a vibration that adds to my pleasure. I tip, too and struggle for balance as I lose all sense of my body in space and time, clinging to him, later leaving small marks on his belly with my fingernails. I tell myself I’ll kiss them when this is over, greedy for the intoxicating rush of orgasm, reveling in his body and mine using each other with so much trust and love.
“Drew, I can’t, I can’t stop, I -- ”
“Don’t, baby. Don’t stop. Go. I’ll be here when you come back. Right here,” he says, reaching down between us, his thumb stroking the spot where I need him most, my body rising high, a thin cry making lightning shoot through me, Drew’s other hand on my hip, pinning me in place with a near-brutal rhythm that makes me come and come and come until I can’t even ask him to stop. I am shaking and crying but it’s good, so good.
So Drew.
I fall forward, slumped on his body, my ass in the air and my torso curled in a weird way as I protect my shoulder. He’s panting, too, and it feels like all the marbled muscle in him has gone still. My hair covers the fine grooves of his ribs, his skin shining with a sheen from exertion, and as I rest on top of him, I realize it’s this – the shared recovery after the unraveling – that makes for connection.