I stop in my tracks.
God, why did this have to happen? I start to wonder if I was hoping they’d just forget about me completely.
Dinner is very quiet. I stare at my plate and push the food around, not really bothering with it. That night I sleep on my side, facing away from him. He doesn’t press me, though in the morning we wake tangled again.
This feels so good. I feel like I was made to be here, like he was made to hold me. From his steady breathing I can tell he’s still asleep as I blink and yawn, stifling the noise with my hand so as not to wake him. Very slowly, over the course of several minutes, I turn around in his arms and face him, so when he does wake up my face will be the first thing he sees.
Sleeping naked still takes some getting used to. His hands are rough and the long scar across his midsection is bumpy and coarse, but the rest of him is almost too smooth, his skin too soft. Touching him comes naturally. I explore gently, feeling his ribs. From my slow touch, I can feel where they were broken once, or maybe multiple times, just a little bent and thick where the fracture healed over.
He makes a small sound and I think he’s going to wake, but his eyelids stay pressed shut, his eyes darting back and forth in a dream. His expression hardens a little and he pulls me closer to him, his face sinking into my frizzy bed-hair. His breath tickles my forehead and his lips graze my skin.
He’s so warm, and of course he has a raging hard-on. I tuck myself closer to him, twining our legs together, so I can feel his cock against my stomach. He shifts in his sleep and grinds against me, and I urge him on with a gentle stroke, my fingers move slowly up his shaft then back down again. I squeeze the thick head in my palm a little and stroke him again.
A little lick wets my palm, and I start to stroke him off in earnest. I can’t tell if he’s awake or not, exactly, as he gasps. Then his eyes flick open, distant and unfocused until they lock on mine. I greet him with a little kiss and faster strokes with both hands as he holds me tight against him.
He grunts hard, and hot cum coats my belly in thick spurts, sticking to my hands in the process. I bring my hand up, flicking the covers away with my arm, and taste him, sucking his seed from my fingers with pursed lips.
Overcome and still hard, he pushes me on my back, lies on top of me, and buries himself to the root in a single thrust. I cry out in pain, squeezing his hips to lock him inside me and stop him from moving. We stick together as he begins to thrust, my pleasure mounting with each push, filling me. Whether he’s half awake or the sight of me tasting his cum from my fingers drove him wild, he’s not gentle. At all.
I like that. I don’t want gentle this morning. I want him to make me feel it later. I’m certainly feeling it now. It’s a good thing I was sopping wet for him as he takes me in long, full-body thrusts that slide me back and forth on the featherbed. He lifts up, pushes his knees under me, takes me by the hips, and pulls me into him, his fingers leaving red marks in my sides and ass as he drives into me hard, his thrusts growing more urgent at the sight of my back arching and my stomach quivering and sucking in every time his thick shaft reaches all the way in and draws back.
I dig my arms into the bed and launch myself at him. He topples backward and them I’m on top, our lips locked as I thrash my hips of him in a steady, rapid rhythm. The faster I go the more intense it grows until my breath comes in ragged gasps as I hold it in, trying to stop the inevitable.
When he comes for me I grip him hard with my legs and squeeze my whole body before falling back in a quivering heap, his cock sliding out of me as I flop on the bed. My legs shake like leaves as I get up, the aftershocks still slipping through my body in cold twists, bend over, and wriggle my ass at him, urging him to chase me.
He catches me in the bathroom and pushes me into the shower, up against the wall. The water cascades over us both and I cry out as it starts out freezing and quickly turns steaming hot as he takes me again, holding me by the ribs and entering me with a single thrust, ramming home with an urgency born of the unspoken fear that today I will leave him, this will be the last time.
I wriggle loose of his wet hands and he bends his knees and thrusts into me against the wall, our bodies locked together, staring steadily into each other’s eyes. He comes so hard it hurts, and I join him shortly after, my toes curling in the air as he lifts me bodily from the shower floor with his thrusts.