Usually, when I came, it was purely because I more or less willed myself to the spot; most men didn’t have the equipment or the skills to get me to the heavens. But Phoenix not only had the right equipment, he knew just when to take initiative and when to let me do the work. I swore, it was like he already knew how my body operated.
When the first orgasm struck, it was like my body just toppled over. My pussy quivered around his cock as my arms became too weak to hold myself up; Phoenix wrapped his around me, his bulging biceps pressing into my sides as he kept pounding through my pulsing. He prolonged the orgasm a good several seconds just by that alone.
The second orgasm came when I’d decided to let him have his choice of position, where he chose doggy style. That didn’t mean I’d completely just wilted and let him have his way; I still shook my ass on him, told him to hold still, and did it my way. Doing so brought me to another climax faster than just about any other time that I could ever remember.
The third and final orgasm was, hilariously, a little short-lived; I was back on top, leaning forward, and my orgasm came just seconds before Phoenix started to come. He had to pull out and finish on my ass just seconds before the potential for a major accident would have happened inside.
But in those three orgasms... oh, sweet heavens, how fucking good it all felt.
“Christ,” Phoenix said.
I giggled, cupped his cheek, and kissed him. I got up, hurried to the bathroom, wiped myself down, and returned to the bedside.
And then, as if someone had yelled “Cut!”, I went from the dominating freak that wanted everything done my way to a post-orgasm, love-struck lady who wanted nothing more than to feel her muscular man’s arms around her.
Phoenix easily acquiesced, wrapping his arms around me. I let out a contented sigh, and he did the same. I waited for him to speak first, but I’d done such a number on him that he was probably going to pass out just from sheer exhaustion first.
“Oh my God,” he said, his voice just barely above that of a loud whisper. I giggled. “Oh, my, God.”
His words got louder, and my laughter, in turn, mirrored the volume of his words.
“Oh, my, God!” he said one final time. “Where the... where the hell did that side of you come from? I never would—”
“Have guessed that a friendly, charming bartender like myself could be such a freak in bed?” I said.
It was kind of funny, but not in a way that Phoenix would have guessed. It was more just funny how, even around guys that I wanted to sleep with, there was just some sort of hesitancy with admitting that I wanted to sleep with them. I could kiss, I could compliment, I could flirt, I could dance, but it was like sex was something that I knew might intimidate a lot of men. But once the moment of pleasure came, not a single man had ever run off because of my asserting manner.
“I love sex, so why wouldn’t I want to control it?”
“Hah, I guess we’re a great match in that regard.”
“Hell yeah, we are,” I said, feeling Phoenix let out a deep exhale.
Which is why you’re leaving in two months, right?
Something you still can’t admit.
It was a damn good thing silence fell. It was a good thing that in the darkness, I could only see the faintest of expressions on Phoenix’s face. It was a good thing that, because we were cuddling, I could turn so I didn’t have to face him.
There was no way he wouldn’t say something about how much of a disparity there was between my words and my laughter and the way my face looked. Fuck, I was glad I couldn’t see myself, and I knew how I felt.
I began to feel not just like a shit, but a manipulative piece of shit. OK, yes, in general, men were the ones who lied about the future to get laid, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have done it. And what made it worse was that I hadn’t so much lied as I had just failed to bring up a tough conversation. In other words, I’d avoided the obvious, easy mistake, but I hadn’t had the courage to make mention of a painful truth.
I’d just thought, “Oh, well, it’s just in the moment, so why not?” And now, the answer to that question was coming through “loud and clear”—because once I’d had sex with Phoenix, I—
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve gone strangely silent. Thought you might be sleeping.”
“Oh.”
Tell him the truth. Tell him what was running through your mind.
He deserves to know, Jess.
He has to know.
