“That was masterful,” she said breathlessly.
I was so tempted to make an art pun, but once more, less was more. Let her sit with the overwhelming rush; let her sit with the pleasure that enveloped her and pulsed through her. There was no rush. If anything, the longer I waited for my turn, the more enthralling my orgasm would be.
“Holy fuck.”
I chuckled, but again said nothing. Sarah still had the pillow over her face; she had only moved it up some so she could speak. Lying there, naked, her pussy pulsing wet by my hand, I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced a more satisfying moment in my life.
“Your turn.”
Until, well, maybe the next few minutes.
Sarah sat up, put a hand on my chest, and pushed me to the bed. I was more than happy to close my eyes and surrender to the feeling; it wasn’t very often that I surrendered control. Even with other women in the past, I’d had to be the one to control everything from start to finish.
Maybe, I thought in the half-second before Sarah wrapped her lips around my dick, that was as big a sign as any that Sarahand I were destined for forever. No one, not even past Sarah, had made me surrender control so willingly, so easily, so without thought. Sure, it was easy during sex.
Actually, no, during sex it was harder, because it was my most intimate and my most vulnerable. But here I was, letting her have her way with me. If I could do that here…
Well, those thoughts would have to wait, because good God, Sarah seemed to know my body like it was one of her pieces of art. I had thought she’d just go at it with the speed and forcefulness we’d gotten into bed with, but she was actually a master of tempo. She’d go fast when things seemed to slow down, then relax and stare into my eyes. And fuck me, those green eyes about damn made me come just from the way she was looking at me.
“Having fun?” she said.
It wasn’t just the words she said. The way she spoke, the laugh that punctuated it—it all suggested that even if I hadn’t been willing to surrender control, Sarah would have taken it anyway.She never stopped thinking about me.
Including, apparently, how to control me.
She’s doing a damn good job.
“Yes,” I barely got out.
Sarah just laughed, rose from her crouched position, and then crawled toward me.
“Then enjoy even more what’s about to happen,” she said, “Cassius.”
She put me inside her, pressed her hands against my chest, and rode me. I didn’t have to do anything but grab her body when I wanted; she did all the work to bring herself to a second—third?—orgasm, all the while bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
Past Cassius would never have let me come from here, because it gave the woman the power. Past Cassius wouldprobably have put her in doggy style, because I didn’t particularly like looking women in the eye when I came. But I wasn’t past Cassius, the man who was at all times part billionaire, part monster, part human.
I was just Cassius Vale, a man in love with Sarah Carpenter. I could just be where I was.
And with that mental block gone, the physical one faded to the side. It took hardly any time from that point forward for my climax to approach, but I wasn’t in this game to last as long as possible. I was in this to connect with Sarah, to culminate our shared intimacy after years and weeks of pretending otherwise.
Just as I was about to come, I pulled her in for a deep kiss, wrapping my arms around her and bear-hugging her. I closed my eyes, pressed my lips onto hers, and came inside her with a ferocious, guttural groan. The whole thing might have lasted five, six seconds, but at the moment, I knew instantly I would never forget it.
Gradually, the physical comedown had. But the emotional bond only seemed to strengthen. The longer I looked at Sarah, the more I regretted waiting so long to tell her the truth. But then, the more joy I felt at finally having made this relationship real.
She got off me, rolled to the side, and cuddled against me. That was another thing past Cassius would have never allowed.
But past Cassius was gone, or at the very least just one part of the larger whole
As we lay on the bed, our respective breaths coming back to us, a thought popped into my mind that I initially felt almost fearful of.
What would Virgil think?
I didn’t love that post-orgasm, in the bliss that was our reunion, my thoughts went to my dead brother. But then itslowly made sense. He was family; he got a vote in my actions as much as any of my brothers.
And I knew Virgil would approve.
Virgil had always approved of Sarah. He knew she was always a responsible, caring, empathetic, touching partner for me. If he could have said one last thing before his death, he would have said, “Love her.”
