The motions were familiar. His touch had become defter, more confident, over time. And his usually awkward nature became more fluid. He groaned my name as he pushed himself into me, pulling my hips closer. I echoed his movements, my arousal growing with his satisfaction. I watched beads of sweat form on his brow, more apparent when his face screwed up with pleasure. He didn’t kiss me again, but I’d become accustomed to that. Making out was for teenagers.
I inhaled his natural scent, enhanced by a salty concoction of unwashed hair and fresh perspiration; it was always sharper when we were making love. I felt a twinge inside and sighed softly, but then it was gone. It wasn’t long before he came, squeezing his eyes shut as he called out and collapsed onto me.
“Sorry,” he breathed into my ear after a moment. “Do you want—”
“It’s fine,” I reassured him, suddenly tired from the wine. “It was nice.”
It took him less than two minutes to fall asleep; I knew because I often watched the clock as I waited. I untangled myself from his clutches and tiptoed out of the room.
Once the apartment was dark and still, and I’d washed my face of the day, I returned to cocoon myself in the soft sheets. He stirred and reached for me, but I expertly dodged his grasp. I’d had to learn to find the comfort in postcoital cuddling. I was always the one left with tingling limbs and uncomfortable sweating as I willed myself to sleep.
A twinge. Though the sex was comfortable and good, a twinge wasn’t much of anything. I let my head roll to the side to look at my husband. At one point he’d wanted my orgasm as much as I did, but it was the one thing I couldn’t give him. There were times when we’d been close, when the stars and the body parts had aligned, and I’d shuddered in response. But when it came time for the grand finale, I’d buckled under the pressure.
Bill had found comfort in the fact that it wasn’t just him. I’d been with other men before him, mostly in college, but despite my efforts, had yet to find my slice of Nirvana. I couldn’t find comfort in that, though. To me, it was my eternal flaw and as a wife, my greatest inadequacy. If things were the other way around, could I live with the fact that I couldn’t pleasure Bill?
I was happy, though. I had other ways of getting myself off when necessary. I had my husband, who loved me in spite of everything. My life was pretty much as perfect as a night of good friends, wine, and sex. I lay in bed and watched the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Yes, I was happy.
Start the completed, forbidden romance trilogy today with book one, Come Undone, or purchase The Cityscape Series Complete Boxed Set.