She’s sad about something. There’s a somberness to her mood. I should ask her, find out what’s wrong. Later. I hiss out a breath when she pumps me harder. Is she going to use her hand to make me come? I had other ideas.
“Something wrong?” I manage to say.
“I wish it wasn’t always about the sex.”
“You’re the one who put the rewards system in place.” She speeds up her movements. Oh, fuck. If she continues doing that I’ll explode in her hand.
“How many times have you been in love?” she wants to know.
What? I can feel my eyes rolling towards the back of my head. I jerk, hissing out another grunt because Mari has perfected this art so well.
“In love?” I manage to rasp.
“How many times?”
I can’t believe she’s asking me these questions now of all times. I push her hand away even though heat flushes through my body. I sit up, even though I’m rock hard.
“You’re asking me this now?”
“Now that I have your full attention.” Her hand stills on my manhood. “Who was your first love? Like, a real proper first love?”
“Why are you asking me all these questions now?” When I’m minutes from release. My past girlfriends are the last things I want to talk about, now.
“Mari,” I rasp, wishing she would start stroking me again. My spirits are slowly deflating as if my manhood. “I love …” I pause, hissing out a breath. What do I love. Her? No, it’s too soon. I feel something, because I have given her more than I have others. I miss her, I need her, but this isn’t love. Love hurts, and twists, and destroys.
“You love what?” she whispers.
I groan inwardly. This has turned out to be nothing like the evening I had in mind. We’ve derailed. She looks at me “I love this, what we have.”
“Being in bed with me? Is that all?”
She’s busting my balls, literally. Why do women want to talk all the time? “I love having you around, okay?”
“I don’t want you to get mad at me, I just wanted to know. I feel as if I don’t know much about you.”
“Maybe I like it that way.” This is why emotional entanglements drive me crazy. Women want to get inside my head. They want to know everything. Maybe I don’t want them to know everything.
“You’re a mystery. I was only asking about your past love life. It’s not an unusual question.”
“Maybe I don’t want to open the past.”
“Is the past so bad?”
This is getting unreal. “You know it is.” I sit up and push her hand away.
“I can make it better,” she says.
“You have.” I walk over to the chair and grab my sweatpants. The mood has turned. I’ve lost interest.
“Don’t go.” She jumps up and rushes to me, taking my sweatpants from my hands.
“Leave it,” I grumble. “I’m not in the mood. You keep talking.” I can’t hide my displeasure. I came here to fuck. Not to have a debate about my relationships. I have an erection as long as my arm. Feels like it. She bites her lower lip and leads me back to the bed.
“I was just wondering what happens when you finish the book.”
The book? I blink. All I ever think about is the book. I hate it, and like it, and then rewrite it and suffer over it. She is the only one who provides me with something else. “I haven’t thought that far. Why?” I don’t understand what she’s getting at.
“It was just a question. There’s nothing deep about it.”
“What do you want, Mari?”
She looks as if she has something to say. I’m all ears. “Well?” I prompt, when she appears to hesitate. She shrugs. “What do you want?” she asks me.
“Sex. That’s what I came for.” But I’m not prepared for the way her face crumples. I feel like a douchebag. “You devised the system,” I remind her. “It spurred me on to write more than usual.”
“Then let me give you the reward you’ve earned.” She pushes me onto the bed and strips off slowly. I lie back, rest my arms behind my head and watch her. That’s better. She’s a tease, and she’s so insanely good at it. I lick my lips when she’s completely naked. I couldn’t have asked for more.
She climbs onto the bed and lowers herself slowly onto me. Desire thickens inside me and I hold my breath, not wanting to take my eyes off her. She has become my salvation, this beautiful woman with