be enough. It wouldn’t even be close to enough. But with the petting and his breath against my shoulder and neck, I was growing electrified. I felt like I glowed.
His other hand cupped my breast, stroking my nipple until it was a hard point. But that, too, was a tender touch.
I whimpered.
“Get the condom,” he said. “It’s on the floor by the bed.” I rolled over as far as he would let me, his thumb giving me a harder touch. The kind of touch I needed. And I purred like the cat I didn’t want to be.
He laughed and I picked up the condom.
“Open it, my hands are full.” He squeezed my breast and his long middle finger slid deep inside of me.
“Yes,” I sighed.
“Babe.” He kissed my ear. “Condom.”
I tore it open and rolled over onto my back so I could put it on him. I would have kept rolling right on top of him. I imagined myself riding him, grinding myself down against his dick. Braced against the wall, I could find the right rhythm and friction—
But he rolled me back over onto my side. His arms were back around me holding me still, but not in the way I usually liked.
He lifted my leg and pushed it over his hips, and I felt his cock notch against me and I pushed down against it, ready to make this happen, but as I pushed backward he pulled away.
“Stop teasing me,” I breathed.
“I’m not teasing you,” he said. “I’m making love to you.”
My body froze at the word love.
“I don’t…” I said, unsure of how I was going to finish that sentence. I don’t love you. I don’t love anyone. I don’t want to be loved.
All of those things were true and at the same time not true at all.
“Me too,” he said.
His hand was back to stroking me. My breast, my tummy, the hard bony edge of my hip. The tops of my thighs.
“Please,” I whispered. But for some reason it was hard. Different. Begging like this wasn’t like begging on my knees with my hair in his fists. That begging was a game. This felt unbearably real.
He pushed inside of me so slowly, I felt like I was being split in half.
“Oh my God, oh God,” I moaned, gulping down air. I was pinned by him. Filled. By him. I ached to thrust backward against him, to satisfy this growling hungry need in my belly and between my legs.
But he put his hand on my hip, keeping me still. “Like this.”
It was excruciating how slowly he moved. I could feel every ridge of his cock, every centimeter of my body that touched him. I squeezed my pussy trying to force him into something more, but he only groaned and moved even slower.
“I want to come,” I said.
“You will.”
“Not like this.”
“Trust me, baby.”
Ridiculous. Didn’t he know me? Didn’t he get it?
But somehow, I didn’t fight him. I didn’t force him to use me the way I wanted.
He put his mouth against my shoulder and I felt the sharp edge of his teeth, but he didn’t use them. He just held them against me. And all I did was lie there. Still and powerless, I let him slowly make love to me.
It was like being unraveled. It was like having everything about myself that I knew to be true pushed aside, leaving me fresh and raw and naked.
Unknown to myself.
But totally known to him.
I stretched and shifted my leg back further and he groaned, low in his throat. His hands covered my breasts, the nipples caught between his fingers. Every time he thrust into me it was as deep as he could go and it was so good. I was so full.
He thrust and I arched and we found a rhythm that caught fire.
“Just like that, baby. Just like that.”
He kept on like that until we were soaking in sweat despite the air-conditioning. I was mindless. Boneless. I lived for the next push of his cock into my body. I was making some kind of sound. Some soft whimper that sounded like begging.
I couldn’t even form words.
I didn’t have anything while he was pulling me inside out.
“You ready?”
I whimpered and he slipped that hand between my legs and with one touch, hard and sure and just the way I liked, he sent me rocketing.
It was wild and loud, a roar and a rush and I lost myself in it.
He rolled me forward onto my stomach and he covered me