“I won’t be able to hang on much longer if you keep touching yourself like that.”
My fingers make one last circle around my nipples, and I release them.
He grabs my hips, thrusting harder and deeper. My tits are bouncing up and down, and I see his eyes blazing with fire.
My orgasm is right at my fingertips as my clit slams into him repeatedly.
Moaning and breathy, I say, “Oh. My. God. I’m close. Harder, Jude.” I tilt back slightly, and he hits the spot. My hips are grinding on him as I continue to chase my orgasm. I close my eyes and feel my pussy spasm again and again. He holds my hips tighter, moving them ever so slightly as he lets me come down from heavenly bliss. God. I don’t want to stop.
“You look even more beautiful with those pink cheeks.” He swipes his hand over them, and I lean my face into his hand.
With that, he flips me over while still inside me. He moves slowly, deliberately, and lovingly—making it last longer. He’staking control, and it feels like he’s truly making love to me. He brushes his hand over my head and down my face, then slides his forearms under my arms and grasps my shoulders for leverage. The butterflies in my belly take flight. He’s holding me so close to his body as he slides in and slowly back out. He stares deeply into my soul, and my chest aches. I never want this feeling to end. Our hearts are tethered as he makes love to me, and my heart expands into the depths of it all.
He picks up the pace. I squirm under him and arch my back. He’s a perfect fit for me. He pulls my shoulders down, somehow getting even deeper into me. The scent of fresh rain and sex fills the air, and I move my fingers along his chest and up to his head, grabbing hold. My moaning is getting louder and faster, the intensity is buzzing through my body. The way he thrusts causes him to hit my clit over and over. His cock slides over that spot as my pussy holds him tight. I’m grinding in sync with him, unable to get enough.
“You feel so good. I’m going to make you come one more time.”
A breathyyescomes out of my mouth.
He thrusts his cock deeper, and I hear the sounds of slapping as our bodies collide. My pussy clenches around him, my orgasm overwhelming me.
“Jude!” I moan loudly as the pulsing of my pussy grabs him tightly, and that's all it takes for him to grunt in my ear and spill inside me. He moves erratically as my pussy wrings every drop of his cum. He collapses against me as we both try to catch our breath. His hand makes its way to my hair, and he brushes it off my face. As I close my eyes, I can feel my body full of electricity from his touch, but mostly from his dick that is still inside of me.
“This is how we’re meant to be,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine and closing his eyes.
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” My eyes go wide as those words come out of my mouth before I can think twice about it.
“We’ll make this work. I know we’ll figure it out,” he says confidently. It’s like there’s no reservations for him.
I’m trying hard to stay in the moment and not freak out about how it all will work—and not just logistically. It’s a big risk for my heart, too.
“A week from Saturday, I’ll pick you up at noon; we’ll go out on a date once you’re back home and settled in after your trip. We can spend the entire weekend together.”
Drunk on sex, I say, “You will come to Massachusetts to take me on a date? You’re crazy.” Then I think about having him at my house. “But yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”
A weekend with him sounds like a perfect way to spend time together. But then my mind goes back to the logistics of dating him—a sought after photographer who travels a lot.
How will it all work? We just casually date when he has free time to fly in to see me?
I’m not ready to uproot my entire life and practice for him. So am I not as committed to this as he is? He’s already said he’s moving back home. Will he follow through on that? Doubt creeps into my mind, and I feel sick to my stomach.
He breaks through my deep thoughts and doubts by saying, “Yes, it’ll be the best days we’ve had so far, I promise.”
He caresses my body and places a soft kiss on my cheek, then my neck. “I’ll be right back,” he says.
He slides out of me, gets up, and goes to the bathroom. I miss his warmth, the closeness we shared. I hear the water running, and then he returns with a warm face cloth that he uses to clean me up. I’ve never experienced this kind of treatment after sex with any man. The fact that he keeps doing it tells me it’s something he just does to pamper me.
He presses kisses against my stomach, and then he leans over and whispers, “I’ve always loved you. I’ve never stopped. Maybe this is too soon, and we’re moving too fast, but I had to say it.”
Warmth moves through my entire body. Not only did he say it, but I felt it tonight. Looking back, I felt it when he recognized me the moment our eyes met in the lobby a few days ago. I’ve spent years wishing this would happen, but it still feels like a dream. This man embodies everything I’ve ever wanted. He opened up to me. It was more than I could have ever imagined. I’m thinking about a future with him now, and I suddenly realize that I love him, too.
But doubt consumes me once again as I think back to Sam, the one person I ever considered settling for. Sam and I made love one night, and he told me he loved me. I knew it was coming, but I hesitated to say it back. He didn’t have my whole heart, but it only made sense to move on with Sam. It was two years ago…
We lie intertwined and facing each other. He’s rubbing my back, and we talk about what we want for our lives. Of course, he starts by first telling me how he wanted to stay in town or live in one of the nearby towns. I nod my head in agreement. My home and work are here. I wouldn’t want to move. Then he talks about wanting to have four children. He has three siblings and wants a bigger family than the average. He asks, “How many do you want?” Like it’s a given that I want kids.
I look away and say, “I don’t think I can have children.” His body freezes, and he drifts away from me. It was hurtful to lose his heat and touch. But what did I expect? Of course, he wants a house full of kids—the one thing I might not be able to give him. The sadness written all over his face. “Say something,” I beg. More silence. I feel guilty for not mentioning it sooner; thiscould have spared us both this heartache. I hate reliving this time and time again, which is why dating feels futile.
With Sam, it’s clearly a deal breaker. He wants his own children…most men do. It’s in their DNA to reproduce. And I’m left with the emptiness of the possibility of not carrying my own children. It’s like I’m being punished for the choice I made all those years ago. It feels like I’m damaged goods.
