“Good, baby?”
I’m nodding rapidly. “Uhhuh,” I moan. “Oh fuck, Christian.”
My eyes fall closed and I feel his hand covering mine beforehe pushes it away, taking over. “Come, Lana,” he demands in my ear. “Come, baby.”
I feel myself pulsing and clenching first, then the rest of the sensations consume me. My legs tremble and I can’t breathe, the hand that was between my legs wraps around Christian’s wrists, and he keeps circling and applying pressure.
“Chri—” I gasp. “Christian.”
I succumb to the psychedelic pleasure, and I collapse as it dies out. He stops touching me to wrap his arm around me and hold me up. I feel him still deep inside me and my eyes roll back. Holy fuck.
“Baby,” he whispers soothingly in my ear.
I shake my head. “Don’t stop.” I back myself on his dick slowly. “Don’t stop.”
“You’re shaking and you can’t stand.” He huffs a laugh and I smile—stupidly, for sure.
“Don’t stop.” I whimper when I feel the lack of him but then he lifts me and sits me down on the granite again, spreading my legs. He looks down into my eyes, asking for permission. “Don’t stop, Christian.”
I pull him down by his nape and then he’s inside me. I can’t breathe all over again and it’s fine. It’s okay. I don’t really need oxygen around him anyway. Never been a fan, truly. I’d much rather have this—us.
People say it all the time, that there is always someone that makes them feel like they can finally breathe. That’s him for me—air. The first breath after drowning.
After drowning in all the sadness, grief, and loneliness, he gave me a breath of fresh air and brought me back to life.
“I fucking love you,” he breathes on my lips with punishing strokes. My head is about to fall back but his hand captures my throat again, holding me steady. “I love you so much.”
Christian holds my chin in his hands and puts his lips over mine. Somehow he’s deeper, pushing in harder and faster, and I’m drowning, moaning into his lips as he grinds against mine. My legs tremble around him again and my bones become liquid, my nerves burning from the force of my second orgasm. Overstimulation on the verge of killing me.
It fades and I’m left panting, about to fall back, but his arm catches me. Christian pulls me into his chest and I let myself fall into him. It isn’t until I hear his heart pounding that I remember we exist in a world with billions of other people. I forgot it wasn’t just us. I love when that happens.
Slowly, I pull back and my eyes peel open, finding his. Christian huffs a laugh, smiling, and I’m trying to catch my breath. He pushes my hair behind my ear, fixing the top and smoothing it down my back.
“You okay?” I nod and his smile turns into a grin. “Can you walk?”
“Carry me,” I breathe, smiling weakly.
I throw my arms around his neck and wrap my legs tight around him, letting myself rest. I wish we were home, or at least his penthouse. I haven’t been this satiated since a few days ago when I woke him up at three a.m. and he thoroughly wore me out before we were both dead and snoring for the rest of the day.
I don’t know what I love more. Our insatiability or the feeling of being entirely satiated we rest happily. Fuck it, they’re both great.
Then it dawns on me that, maybe, he experienced both with someone else in our years apart. What if that woman also woke him up in the middle of the night? Surely, it wasn’t the same reason I do, right?
I wake him up because…it’s him.I want him all the timeand I love him with everything I am. I’m insatiable—his time, his love, his voice, his touch, his kiss, his body, his energy. I am irrevocably insatiable when it comes to him.
Was she like that with him—and was he like that with her?
Did she also love him?
Has anyone else here loved him?
The worse question is; has he loved anyone who wasn’t me?
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just a stupid question,” I say, shaking my head. Even through my denial, my vision fogs. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he rasps. “Lana.”
