communicate what our bodies desire. I need to feel him inside me. I need the comfort of the closeness only he can offer me right now. I slip my legs apart and while our mouths are still joined, he enters me.
It’s painful at first; I’m sore from the night before. It only takes my hand on his shoulder for him to read me. He slows down, easing into me. Sweetly and softly, then with a building energy that has all the pain in my past washing away from me like water rushing from the shore at high tide.
He grabs my hips, twisting me over on top of him as he lies on his back. He’s even deeper inside me this way and I let out a whimper of delight.
His smile is intoxicating. “Dance for me, baby.”
And somehow, intuitively, I know exactly what to do. Not from research, or hearing the girls talk shop, or from the romance novels my sister emails to my kindle.
It’s intuitive.
He tells me to dance, and I do. Slowly, I roll my hips. Moving forward further into him, then pulling back. He grabs my hips, holding me, but not guiding me. He lets me set my own rhythm. I press my hands into his chest. Lift my ass, rising up on his cock until his eyes shut and he moans, then I slide back down. Hit him with another roll of my hips.
“My God, girl. Where’d you learn to ride like that?”
“I just know.”
I lean back, my breasts pressing forward with their peaked nipples. He takes the opportunity to caress them, taking each bud between his finger and pinching, teasing. The trembling sensation travels deep into my core and it makes me move faster, harder. The sound of our bodies connecting, hot, slick, and eager, fills the room.
The warm rush of tightness comes once more, like the night before and I grab the headboard, exhaling with a rush. He knows I’m close and showing no mercy he raises his hips hard, then lowers them fast, pounding in and out of me while I buck against him.
“Fuck me, daddy, I’m going to come!”
“Come, babygirl. Come for your daddy.”
His words are my undoing. I let out an animal-like cry, riding out the wave of pleasure, my entire body racked with shudders.
Afterward, I lay next to him, he on his back, me curled into his side. His fingertips stroke the back of my arm. I trace lazy circles on his chest with my fingers. He lets out a contented sigh.
I could do this all day.
With this little magic trick in their back pocket, how do people ever get anything done?
I raise my mouth to kiss him again. I’m stopped by the sound of a hard thump coming from the kitchen. “Oh, shit! Mom!” The one thing I’ve come to help with and here I’m lying around. I fly from the bed, tossing on a robe from my suitcase.
“Do you need help?” Gabriel gets up to assist.
“No. I’ve got this. You can take a shower if you want. There should be towels in the bathroom.”
I rush through the house to find my mother in the kitchen, baking muffins. There’s a tin of flour spilled out on the floor. She looks up at me, as if she’s got no idea how this happened. “It just slipped from my hands.”
“It’s alright, Mom. Let me help you.” I help her to sit down at the table. Make her a cup of tea. Pop her muffins into the oven. Despite dropping the canister, they look and smell just like her batter always does, giving me a bit of hope she’s going to be alright.
I grab a broom, sweeping up the flour and toss it into the trash. I make a cup of tea and sit beside her. I’m surprised when she asks about Gabriel, after confusing him with dad last night, though the two don’t bear the slightest resemblance.
We have a pleasant chat. I find myself telling her all about him. And in the process, I realize how much he means to me already.
Soon, the smell of homemade muffins fills the kitchen. Making things feel almost normal.
The phone rings. I answer it; my mother is one of the last few people to have a landline in their home. “Hello?”
“Hello. I’m calling for Barb Montague.”
“This is her daughter speaking. May I help you?”
“Yes. That would be wonderful. My name is Sherry, calling from the Shop From Home Network. We just need to know where she