moved the flowers she’d gotten in the hospital into the bedroom, and had been waiting on her hand and foot for nearly a week. He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading on his laptop, when she walked in.
“Morning,” he said, getting up. “You want coffee? And scones from the bakery?”
“I can get it.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Really good. A lot less sore. The bruises look worse than ever, though.”
“Yeah, let’s stay in for lunch today. I know that waitress at the diner yesterday was giving me dirty looks because she thought I did that to you.”
“Another movie marathon?”
“Sounds good. And I have to go back to work tonight.”
“I can go home, Chris. Really. I should let you get back into your routine.”
“No, I want you here. Do you mind getting on my schedule? Up at night and sleeping in the morning?”
“No, I don’t mind. It’s all the same to me.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind, running her hands over his firm, broad chest. “You feel good,” she said, kissing his neck softly.
Chris groaned as one of her hands trailed down between his legs.
“Abby…” he said in a low voice.
“Hmm?”
“You need to heal right now. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Come back to bed with me.”
He closed his eyes, seeming to fight his urge to follow her.
“Please,” she whispered, standing next to him. She pressed one of his hands under the t-shirt she wore – which was his -- to the skin of her stomach. “I miss you touching me.”
“Okay. But we have to be careful.”
Abby smiled with anticipation as she pulled the shirt over her head and sank back into the satin sheets on Chris’ king-size bed. She was glad for the pitch black room, because the bruises that covered her body might have changed his mind.
The sound of his jeans falling to the floor incited her, and she reached for him hungrily. His exhale was ragged with excitement, and it spurred boldness in her. She quickly moved to her knees, taking him in her mouth as he stood beside the bed.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, running a hand over her hair. “No, Abby … just lay down and let me touch you.”
“No,” she said, pausing to lick his shaft. “This is what I want. You taste so good.”
His breath came in shallow gasps as she worked her mouth up and down his length.
“Oh, God, Abby … that’s so good.”
She changed the rhythm, slowing as she could tell he was close to climax, and he groaned loudly each time. She built him right to the edge and then stopped, lying back on the bed.
“Inside me,” she said, spreading her legs eagerly.
“Abby …”
“I want you inside me, Chris, please. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”
As she heard the bedside drawer opening and the rip of a foil package, she arched her back in anticipation. Sleeping with Chris every night was making her want him more than she ever had.
He hovered over her, sliding himself halfway in and pausing. She flexed her hips into him, taking the rest of him.
“Fuck,” he said, exhaling loudly. She pressed on his lower back, encouraging him. The fire of desire burning between her legs wouldn’t be quelled if he was timid. She whimpered with desire and he seemed to sense what she wanted, thrusting into her powerfully.
“God, Chris. So good,” she murmured, and he gave her more of the same – deep, hard and fast. She panted loudly as the orgasm built quickly. The intensity of it made her unaware of anything else.
Chris groaned loudly, and his sound of satisfaction pushed her into a deep, powerful orgasm that racked her entire body.
“I love you, Abby,” he said, his voice strained as he came. “God, I love you so much.”
“Mmm, I love you, too,” she said, breathless with satisfaction. He stretched out on his back, reaching his arm under her head.
“How often do you like to have sex?” she asked curiously.
“How often?”
“Yes. I mean, are you like, a once a week guy?”
He made an amused noise in the darkness and then sighed.
“I’ve never really done a normal relationship, except once in college. And she went to a different school so for the six months we were together we had sex about once a week. And after that, you know, it’s just been … Friday night dates with sex and then we wouldn’t see each other til the next Friday. Or not, maybe I’d see someone new the next Friday.”
“Oh.”
“But that has nothing to