I find the whole idea of eye contact during sex to be grossly uncomfortable. The only sex I’ve ever had was in the dark, eyes closed tight. You don’t get to share a house with twenty other people and have crazy, adventurous sex.
“I want you.” His words send a burst of flutters from my stomach to my knees.
Crew’s hands slide down my thighs and veer toward my ass, cupping it and hoisting me up at the same time. My legs wrap around him and hook at the ankles, my arms resting on his shoulders.
I’m weightless.
He carries me down the hall, like he’s been here before. And in a way he has. Our apartment footprints are identical.
I press my lips against his and make an executive decision to drown in his scent. Maybe if I inhale him enough, it’ll drown out the specks of doubt clouding this deliciously reckless moment.
The last time I pressed my half-naked body against another man, I daydreamed of wearing his ring around my finger as I nourished his baby in my belly.
Crew’s kisses are different from Mathias’s. His touch is different. He’s hungrier. Worldlier. More experienced. Making love to Mathias was quiet sex wrapped in a warm blanket. Soft and gentle. Benign really. The earth didn’t move, but I swear my soul did at the time.
How naïve I was.
I love his hungry kisses. I want him to kiss me harder and harder. I want grazing teeth and prodding tongues and breathless bites.
I want him deep inside me, shoving himself as deep as he’ll go, filling the empty parts of me I never knew existed until this moment.
Crew drops me on the bed and lunges for my panties, ripping them off and tossing them across the room. I don’t care that my bed is unmade and my room is unkempt. I don’t care that the only things adorning my simple room are a needlepoint I found at a secondhand store and a hand-carved Seed of Life made from mango wood. I don’t need much to be happy.
Besides, the more shit you have, the harder it is to pack up and leave.
He climbs on top of me, and my stomach somersaults. He’s hard as a rock, and I’m slick and warm. One wrong move, and he’ll slip right inside me, I’m sure of it.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growls into my ear, moving his lips against my cheek. I feel him smile, and he peppers kisses in a trail from my ear to my neck before taking a detour back to my mouth.
Crew’s left palm circles my swollen nipple, and he gathers a handful before bringing his tongue to circle wet rings that leave my skin damp and my body yearning for more.
My hips relax, widening for him, for what’s to come.
And it can’t come soon enough.
The unexpected sensation of his fingers slicking my seam causes my breath to hitch before I melt back into the sheets. I reach for him, desperate to feel his cock fill my palm.
I pump his hardness and watch the veins in his neck flex and strain as our eyes meet.
“Do you have a condom?” he asks. “Fuck, Calypso. I didn’t bring one. I didn’t think this . . .”
I shake my head.
Of course I don’t have a condom.
He groans, burying his forehead against my shoulder.
“I can’t have kids.” I blurt the words that have echoed hard in my ears the last few years. I cup his face in my hands and bring his mouth to mine. I want him to kiss me hard, like he did a minute ago. I want to forget. I want him to keep going.
“Calypso . . .”
My lips burn into his, and I squeeze my eyes so tight they hurt. I’d rather feel pain than let them cry another tear over my cruel fate.
“Just keep going, keep going,” I whisper. “Don’t stop. I want this. I want you so bad.”
I reach for his cock, pointing it between my thighs and grinding my hips back and forth.
“Please, Crew . . .”
He couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like to be cast aside because you’re not woman enough to be with the man you love more than anything in the world. I would’ve killed for Mathias. And in the end, not being able to give him a baby was the wind to our flame.
Crew kisses me, though his body hovers above mine just enough to tell me we’re still stuck in neutral.
Maybe he doesn’t believe me. I’m sure plenty