Taking hold of his hips, I yank him forwards and then push him into the dining chair he used to try to keep distance between us. I’m done with distance. I’m done waiting for him to admit the truth. I am his for the taking, and it’s time he laid his claim.
I stand between his spread knees, watching him devour me with his gaze as I shed every stitch of clothing. “Fuck, Ned,” he mutters, reaching for me. “So sexy.” His fingertips wander the lines of my body, grazing my nipples, skimming the backs of my thighs. Every touch is brief, teasing and taunting me, as I stand there quaking with need.
When he nudges me back, I think he’s pushing me away and I’m ready to go to war if I have to. But then he bends over, licking a long, wet stripe along the length of my aching dick and I shout in surprise. He flashes his dimples at me as he straightens.
“That’s it?” I demand, scowling at him.
He chuckles. “You want more? Take it.”
Scrambling for the wallet I tossed onto the table while undressing, I take out a condom and packet of lube. Within seconds I’m standing over Toni’s lap, my erect dick bumping against the underside of his chin and my arsehole spasming in anticipation. “Look at me.”
Tilting his head back, he gazes directly into my eyes. His hands are on my arse, fingertips digging into my flesh. “Ned,” he whispers, his hips restless. “Fuck me.”
I reach down to position him under me, and then I slowly, carefully impale myself on his long dick. With the lack of preparation, it’s slower going than usual, but I like it. I like having to work for it. We’re both a mess of groans, his head thrown back, mine buried in the curve of his shoulder. Our hands grip hard enough to bruise as I lift and lower, lift and lower. Finally, he’s buried to the hilt and my arse cheeks touch down on his thighs.
I stop there, my limbs quaking at the sensation of fullness. I clench around him and he cries out, his hips surging up in an attempt to thrust deeper. Only there’s nowhere to go. I’ve been greedy and I’ve taken all of him.
“Do you see how much I adore you?” I whisper, my lips ghosting over his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. “Do you see how ardently I wish to please you?” Planting my feet firmly on the floor, I lift halfway off him before slamming back down. Toni releases a shuddery moan as he clutches at my nakedness.
My hands drag through his hair, and I love the feel of the strands sliding between my fingers. Tugging on a handful, I force his head back so he can’t avoid my gaze. “I need you to show me everything you are deep, deep down. So I can give my everything to you.” I lick at his lips as I begin riding him with slow, earnest movements. As the rhythm picks up, he tears his mouth away from mine so he can latch on to the side of my neck, sucking hard. “Yes,” I moan, wanting him to mark me and make me his. “Harder.”
Toni reaches up to take hold of my wrists, turning them until my arms are twisted behind my back. Holding both of my wrists in place with one hand, he wraps the other around my weeping dick, driving me wild with long, firm strokes. My body spasms, losing all sense of rhythm, and I have to rely on him to hold me steady as I grind myself madly upon him.
His hips thrust upwards, slamming into me, getting us both where we need to go. Our cries of completion mingle as we come simultaneously, our bodies pulsing with release.
I may be physically on top of him this time, but there’s no mistaking who is in charge here. Him. I always want it to be him.
TWENTY
______
TONI
I’m awake before the sun, but I don’t bother to get up. Instead, I stare at the ceiling, the events of last night playing on an endless loop inside my head.
Ned is warm beside me, his face tucked into the crook of my neck, his body nestled against my side. Each slow and steady breath he takes puffs against my skin. He’s by far the most comfortable sleeping partner I’ve ever had. Although, most of the guys I’ve had sex with didn’t stick around long enough to fall asleep. Which was usually fine by me.
Having sex with someone isn’t such a big deal. I’ve always believed falling asleep beside them is the more intimate experience. Being vulnerable to someone requires a higher level of trust. It says, I trust you not to hurt me. I trust you to still be here when I wake up. Maybe that thought alone is a red flag. If the most intimate behaviour I can think of requires both parties to be unconscious, what does that say about my willingness to be vulnerable when my eyes are open?
I can’t stop thinking about what Rodney said last week, about how being in an intimate relationship involves knowing each other in ways no one else gets to see. Is that what Ned meant last night, when he said he wanted me to show him everything, so he could give his everything to me? The idea of anyone knowing me so well is terrifying. It’s paralysing.
I’ve always known the people around me better than they’ve known me. It’s not through any underhanded means. I simply ask more questions. People love to talk about themselves; I encourage them to do so. I collect the little details of their lives and, when I’m able to reiterate them, people enjoy a sense of being seen. It’s how my social interactions have always worked. My friends don’t like me because they know me, they like me because I know them.
If I’m not one to share in kind, most of them don’t notice. They take the surface level crap I dish out, the tiny tidbits and the rehashed stories, and they’re satisfied.
Not Ned. He always wants to dig deeper and know more. For every question I ask, he asks three in return.
Ned wants to see me. He wants to know me, all the way down to the bottom. What if I let him in, and he gets bored, or turned off, or offended? What if he sees me, and he doesn’t like me anymore?
On the other hand, if I don’t take the chance, this is as far as we’ll go. The sex will continue to be hot, and the dates will continue to be fun, but we’ll never get past this point. We’ll be stuck.
Easing out of bed, I pull on the clothes I wore when Ned arrived last night. No one has ever seen me wearing them before. They’re soft against my skin and as comfortable as a hug, but in terms of style they belong firmly in thewouldn’t be caught deadpile.
Ned appreciated them, though. I liked the way his gaze went all melty when he looked at me and how a hint of gravel roughened his voice when he called me touchable. Then there was the way hedidtouch me. That was my favourite part. Maybe it won’t kill me to wear these clothes around him a little longer.
Heading to the kitchen, I make myself a cup of coffee before taking the key out of the bottom drawer and letting myself into my office. I leave the door open behind me.
Within minutes, I’m settled cross-legged in my office chair with my stylus in hand. I try to lose myself in the process of creation, but my fingers are clumsy, and my brain won’t focus. Every sound makes me jump as I wait for Ned to find me here, even though I know he never wakes up this early.
