When I lock eyes with her, I feel like a child who just brought home a bad report card.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper, still trying to collect myself. “No, no, don't stop. I can keep going.”
Becky doesn't look amused. “Sean.”
“No, baby, please don't stop,” I plead, because I want to finish this more than I can get Becky to understand. “I can keep going, I swear. I don't care how long it takes, I want you to come, Becky.”
“What?”
“I want you to come. I don't know how it overtook me like that, but I want you to come. Don't stop until you come.” I grip Becky’s hips and start to force her to grind on top of me again.
“It’s okay, Sean,” she says with dissatisfaction dripping from every word. What she doesn't say is, I’m used to it, but I know it’s hidden behind her words. It’s back there, lurking beneath the surface.
“No, it’s not okay,” I snip, feeling frustrated. “And I’m not stopping until you come. Now come on. Fuck me, Becky.”
I keep pushing, forcing Becky to grind on me. She releases a disenchanted sigh before I feel her start to move on her own. I have to grip her tighter, because after having just orgasmed myself, everything is more sensitive now. My dick is screaming to stop, but I can’t. I grip Becky’s skin so tight I’m sure it’ll leave a bruise on her hips, but I don't dare let go.
The two of us keep going until I hear the rhythmic breathing again. When I look up, I see Becky with her eyes shut, and I find myself wondering what it is she sees in the darkness. What movie is playing behind her eyelids that seems to help her get to the edge? I didn't think about it before, but now that I can see Becky is on the verge again, I find myself curious. Even as Becky starts to take in long gasps that build up higher in pitch, before letting out a soft moan and dropping her body down onto mine with her hair covering my face entirely. Even while I struggle to breathe through her hair, my mind wonders about the unknown.
Becky climbs off of me without taking any time to recover, before getting up and walking out of the room. I hear her walk towards the stairs and ascend them before going into the bedroom and closing the bathroom door, presumably to get cleaned up.
Thoughts ignite inside my head as I sit on the couch, still catching my breath from it all. I’m shrouded in confusion, and I’m not sure I’m fully aware of what just happened. Did Becky actually have an orgasm? It bothers me that I couldn't really tell—and if she did, why did she have to squeeze her eyes closed in order to get there? What was she imagining? The questions swirl around my head like a thick fog, coating all my senses and keeping me immobile.
Then, there’s the question that’ll haunt me the rest of the night, and for who knows how long after. I feel it running up to me like a thief in the night, and I want to push it away. I want to block it out but it comes too fast and forceful. The question hits me, and I feel myself start to break beneath the weight of it. It’s the question I’m most afraid of.
While Becky was riding me, working up the strength and sensation she needed to come with her eyes pinched shut, was she thinking about Dr. Bishop?
The Golden Rule
12
~ Malcolm ~
“Good morning, Dr. Colson,” my receptionist, Keisha, calls out to me as I walk past her and push through the door to my office. I close the door behind me and walk over the hardwood to the desk, where I sit down and grab my notes on my next patient, Sean Tillman. I had a productive session with Sean last week, and I expect today will be a positive one as well. Sean is a good patient who's willing to learn and try new things—the perfect client. I have about ten minutes until Sean is due to arrive, so I try to use the time to go over what I expect next from him. However, this morning, I find myself distracted by thoughts of my own life.
My relationship with Ava feels like it’s turning. While I love nothing more than fucking her—feeling the crack of my flogger as it whips across her supple