He’s merciless when he drives back into me, introducing that brutal bit of force that would have knocked me flat if he weren’t gripping me. His fingers cut into my hips, his heavy testicles slap the curves of my bottom, and the wide head of his penis hammers up high into my depths, again and again.
But even rough and unleashed, there’s still a reverence to the way he takes me. It’s as if deriving pleasure from my body is as essential to him as his next breath. Lowering myself onto my elbows, I push my behind higher, without shame or self-consciousness. “Harder, Mick.”
Moving with a speed that doesn’t permit words, he bangs the hell out of me. His piercing thrusts produce a pleasure-pain that makes me delirious. Drowning in the ferocious rhythm, I push my hips back into his, wanting release but wishing it would never end.
He slides his hand down to the slippery heartbeat of my arousal and presses his mouth against my ear. “I love you, Dee.”
Feeling our absolute connection, everything inside me tightens, and on a tattered moan, I milk him hard for a second time.
“Ah, baby.” Mick wraps his arms around my waist, his hips pumping as he pounds out his satisfaction and spills into me.
Both of us sweaty and sticky, Mick scoops me up off the floor and carries me to the bathroom. I halfheartedly argue that I’m too heavy, but he won’t relent. He removes my torn thong, promising to buy me another. Then, shedding his clothes, he turns on the tap and steps us under the warm spray. I haven’t showered with a man before. But when a gorgeously naked Mick is soaping you up with his large, slippery hands, no woman in her right mind would do anything except let him.
DRYING DEE OFF, I RUN the towel over her dark hair, which falls in wet, velvety ribbons around her shoulders and move my way down her golden body, flushed from the steamy water and the steamier sex.
If she thought I’d care about her marks or whatever else she views as imperfect, Dee couldn’t be more wrong. Stripped of her sexy undies and all her defenses, I wanted nothing more than to take her as I had earlier in my mind. Only the reality was so much better, holding me by the heart and nearly cutting off my breath. I should have been drained after coming as though my life depended on it. But inspired by her sleek, wet curves, I teased her with the pulsating spray and then finished it off with a long, slow fuck against the wet tiles.
“Between the kitchen and the shower, I can check a couple more fantasies off my list.”
“How many do you have?” she asks, pulling the towel around her and knotting it between her breasts.
“Plenty.” I hurry a towel over me and walk comfortably naked into the bedroom. I search in my bag for a pair of boxer briefs and glance over my shoulder to gauge her reaction. “Does that disturb you?”
“No.” Her mouth smiles but the smile falls short of her eyes. “What woman doesn’t want to be fantasized about? It’s just difficult for me to envision.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, stepping into my underwear. Turning, I pull her into my arms.
Her hands go to my back and her cheek to my chest. “I love everything we just did and how desirable you make me feel. But I’ve never liked my body.”
That I already know. “When did it start?”
“You want all my secrets, Mick?” Her response is light but I hear the angst in her tone.
“You know all of mine,” I say with a kiss to the crown of her head. “It seems only fair that I know all of yours.”
“You might look at me differently.”
“Nothing you tell me could ever change the way I feel. You trusted me with your body, Dee. Now trust me with the rest.”
“It’s not easy to talk about,” she says and slips away from my embrace to curl up on the window seat, tucking her legs beneath her and pulling a fringed pillow onto her lap.
Giving her the space she seems to need, I turn on a lamp to break up the darkness in the room and sit on the edge of the bed, across from her.
The soft radiance of light reflects the natural streaks of auburn in her sable curls. She inhales deeply and slowly releases her breath. I wait while her fingers nervously pluck at the beaded fringe.
“I was always a chubby child,” she says in a quiet, faraway voice. “I ate to pacify myself through my mother’s bouts of depression and more so to comfort the panic whenever I was sent away. My mom was oblivious and called it baby fat. Told me I’d grow out of it. But I didn’t. I gained more weight with puberty and went on my first diet when I was ten.”
I think of what Gabi and Maria were doing at that age, playing, laughing, and having fun. Not dealing with an absentee father, a depressed mother, or dieting. “You were just a kid.”
“I was a kid that my gym teacher called fat as if I were disgusting,” she says without looking at me, her words carrying a bitter sadness. “He was the first of many.”
“I wish I’d been there.” My words vibrate with anger, and I fist the sheets at my side.
“My white knight.” She laughs but it’s mirthless. “I’ll never forget how you went after J. T. and his friends after you heard what they’d said to me in the cafeteria. If only I had been able to fight back myself. But I was too embarrassed to ever say anything. My self-esteem being what it was, I thought they were right. Fat to me was something unattractive, unlovable, and unwanted. I’d flip through fashion magazines and pick out a model and pretend that was me. I just knew if I looked that beautiful, someone would love me.”
“You are beautiful and lovable, Dee.”
“But I didn’t feel that way.” She hugs the pillow to her chest. “By eleven, I had fallen into the pattern of overeating and then either starving myself or making myself throw up. I had this love–hate relationship with food. Although my compulsion was destroying me, it was also my friend. She helped me through every difficulty in my life. She was my comfort, the only constant I could depend on. And even when she made my weight yo-yo up and down and made me hate myself, I still depended on her.
