“Well, yeah, I have. But you shouldn’t feel like—”
“No. No, I like that you do. Maybe a year ago, the thought of it would’ve sent me running for the hills, but now, here, actually being that for the two of you . . .” He unlaced his fingers and turned his hands around to take hers. He balled them into fists and squeezed them. “I meant what I said in the car. I like how it feels. Being useful. Or needed.”
A hopeful and possibly naive thought occurred to her. “Do you think this is going to change things for you? I mean, do you think that whatever it is you used to do—the shady stuff—do you think maybe you chose that because you figured you had nothing to lose? No future ahead of you, so fewer worries about doing something to mess that future up?”
“No doubt. I’ve always operated thinking, well, if I’m fucked no matter what I do, I may as well make a load of easy money and enjoy it while I can.”
“And this changes that philosophy?” She wanted to hear him say yes. Without knowing what he’d done and how bad it might have been, there was no telling if she’d change her mind about being with him. But hearing him say he’d do things differently now, that his priorities were changing . . . She’d be a liar if she said that wouldn’t weaken her hold on her feelings for this man.
“Course it does,” Casey said. “The things I’ve done . . . Well, let’s just say that the threat of a life sentence is a lot more scary when you know your lucid years could go on for another five decades.”
“Life sentence?” she echoed, all at once unnerved. She turned around to face him.
He smiled and smoothed her hair. “I promise you it wasn’t anything violent.”
“That’s something . . .” That was a whole heck of a lot, but . . . “But that’s still scary.”
“Never scarier than now that I have a real life ahead of me. Trust me. I’m changing.”
What about your feelings for me? Does this change them at all? She’d grown bolder these past few days, more demanding, but she didn’t yet dare ask that question aloud.
She wanted to cling to him in the wake of this talk, in any way she could manage. Sex seemed the context least likely to give away exactly how darn attached she’d grown.
“You said you like feeling needed by me,” she said.
“More than I’d ever expected I would.”
“I’m glad. And I do need you. In more ways than you know.” As she stroked her hand down his chest, his eyes widened and his lips parted. She felt a rush at those changes, excitement to watch him transform, the relief on his face tensing to something darker. “It’s meant a lot to me, being with you this week. I’ve gotten back a part of myself I’d almost forgotten about; it’s been so long since I’ve felt these things. Been this way.”
He swallowed, looking hazy. “You have no idea how goddamn good that makes me feel, honey.”
“You just found out you’ve got your whole future ahead of you,” she whispered. “We should celebrate that. Celebrate life.”
“Amen.”
And she welcomed his warm weight on her, his knees between hers, his mouth when he kissed her, deep. And when the time came to welcome his cock, she reached for the lube herself, no longer intimidated.
He sank inside with a breathless shudder, looking overcome. She stroked the goose bumps that rose along his arms, marveled at him. She marveled at herself, even, at the hunger in her motions, the abandon she felt with this man. She marveled that sex could be so freeing, so intuitive and natural.
So many times, he’d asked her what she needed, here in this bed. Tonight he wouldn’t have to ask. She’d show him with her body, tell him with her words, unbidden.
She stroked his hair, his face, his arms. “You feel good.”
He moaned, hips speeding.
“I like that,” she whispered. “When you go faster.”
“Yeah?”