his. “Enthusiastic consent, even. If you want one for you, then that is fine, but you don’t need one for me.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed.
She laughed and shook her head. “No one deserves anyone else. But we can try and be worthy of each other. I’m game if you are.”
He trembled at her entrance; she could feel the sweet heat of the tip, with no barriers between them. He pressed her open, slowly, moving like she was a virgin; and in a way, she supposed, she was to this.
Of all the crazy things she’d done in college, she’d never let anything this close in her life. People had made noise about how different it was, how much more intense, and in a way she supposed they were right, but it wasn’t so much the physical difference as the one in her mind and her heart.
She arched up to meet him, flesh to flesh, and groaned at the sweet completion she felt as he slid utterly home. His hands curled up around her shoulder blades, cupping her shoulders and holding her firmly. His mouth was close to her ear, and she could hear him panting heavily, even though he wasn’t moving. The muscles of his back trembled with tension. “Holy shit,” he whispered, again and again. “Holy shit, baby, oh my god.”
“I love you,” she whispered back, there on the floor of his apartment, just feet from the door.
She bucked her hips, sliding him out of her, and then just a little deeper in. He made a noise, a keening, and then he was driving into her, fast, deep, and it didn’t hurt, it didn’t make her wince; it felt like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the promise kept, the moment when a minor chord resolves.
“Need to…” he groaned, and rose up just enough that he could look into her eyes. His control was held by a ragged thread, she could see that. His pace slowed, and she could see the entire ring of his irises in his eyes as he fought to hold on a little longer, extend the sensation just a little more. “Need to see you…”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together and pulling him in tight to her. It undid him. She watched as his upper body froze, completely still, while his hips drove into her in short, rapid thrusts. She could feel him convulsing against her, feel him emptying inside of her, the rush of heat as he spent himself within her.
She held his silence inside of her and smiled, stroking her hands down his back as he embraced the sensation, and then came back down to her, holding her against him, rocking softly back and forth as he whispered nonsense words in a gentle tone. She held him just as tight, feeling completely loved.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One thing they never showed in porn, she thought later, as she went to the bathroom to pee, was how much easier clean-up was with a condom. Her thighs were cold and sticky, and she took a moment to wipe herself off, chuckling. It was worth it, she was sure of that. But one more thing that no one told women about sex. She ought to write a book.
When she went back out to the living room, Mason had found his jeans and shorts again. It felt awkward to be naked while he was dressed, so she started collecting her own clothing from the various places it had landed.
“I— that was amazing,” he said.
She glanced at him, then leaned over to adjust her breasts into the cups of her bra. “Sounds like a ‘but’ is incoming.”
“I meant to talk to you first,” he said. “I didn’t mean to— push myself on you.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “Well, you did at first, but you stopped before I even had to ask you to, and then you were only doing what I asked you to. So no harm, no foul.”
He patted the couch next to him, and she sat down, but when she reached out to take his hand, he squeezed hers and then pulled back. Okay, that was unexpected. She felt the walls she’d been working so hard to disassemble try to rebuild themselves
“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed.
She laughed and shook her head. “No one deserves anyone else. But we can try and be worthy of each other. I’m game if you are.”
He trembled at her entrance; she could feel the sweet heat of the tip, with no barriers between them. He pressed her open, slowly, moving like she was a virgin; and in a way, she supposed, she was to this.
Of all the crazy things she’d done in college, she’d never let anything this close in her life. People had made noise about how different it was, how much more intense, and in a way she supposed they were right, but it wasn’t so much the physical difference as the one in her mind and her heart.
She arched up to meet him, flesh to flesh, and groaned at the sweet completion she felt as he slid utterly home. His hands curled up around her shoulder blades, cupping her shoulders and holding her firmly. His mouth was close to her ear, and she could hear him panting heavily, even though he wasn’t moving. The muscles of his back trembled with tension. “Holy shit,” he whispered, again and again. “Holy shit, baby, oh my god.”
“I love you,” she whispered back, there on the floor of his apartment, just feet from the door.
She bucked her hips, sliding him out of her, and then just a little deeper in. He made a noise, a keening, and then he was driving into her, fast, deep, and it didn’t hurt, it didn’t make her wince; it felt like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the promise kept, the moment when a minor chord resolves.
“Need to…” he groaned, and rose up just enough that he could look into her eyes. His control was held by a ragged thread, she could see that. His pace slowed, and she could see the entire ring of his irises in his eyes as he fought to hold on a little longer, extend the sensation just a little more. “Need to see you…”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together and pulling him in tight to her. It undid him. She watched as his upper body froze, completely still, while his hips drove into her in short, rapid thrusts. She could feel him convulsing against her, feel him emptying inside of her, the rush of heat as he spent himself within her.
She held his silence inside of her and smiled, stroking her hands down his back as he embraced the sensation, and then came back down to her, holding her against him, rocking softly back and forth as he whispered nonsense words in a gentle tone. She held him just as tight, feeling completely loved.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One thing they never showed in porn, she thought later, as she went to the bathroom to pee, was how much easier clean-up was with a condom. Her thighs were cold and sticky, and she took a moment to wipe herself off, chuckling. It was worth it, she was sure of that. But one more thing that no one told women about sex. She ought to write a book.
When she went back out to the living room, Mason had found his jeans and shorts again. It felt awkward to be naked while he was dressed, so she started collecting her own clothing from the various places it had landed.
“I— that was amazing,” he said.
She glanced at him, then leaned over to adjust her breasts into the cups of her bra. “Sounds like a ‘but’ is incoming.”
“I meant to talk to you first,” he said. “I didn’t mean to— push myself on you.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “Well, you did at first, but you stopped before I even had to ask you to, and then you were only doing what I asked you to. So no harm, no foul.”
He patted the couch next to him, and she sat down, but when she reached out to take his hand, he squeezed hers and then pulled back. Okay, that was unexpected. She felt the walls she’d been working so hard to disassemble try to rebuild themselves
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