So I do.
I come so hard every muscle in my body seems to spasm in ecstasy and I lose control of my voice, moaning out my relief as my senses narrow and zero-in on the overwhelming sensations rushing through me now, my entire being turning into one big ball of pleasure.
I’m only vaguely aware of Kit shouting out too as he shudders into his own release inside me.
* * *
‘How are you so good at that?’ I say minutes later, when we’re both lying together, unbound now and staring at each other in mutual appreciation.
‘Well, I’d like to say natural aptitude, but I have to put some of it down to practice I suppose. There are some things I like to spend a lot of time studying.’ He grins at me and I smile back.
‘So sex with Katya was good, I assume?’ I say, unable to help myself. I know I shouldn’t be asking things like this but I’m fascinated about his relationship with his ex.
More of that sexual jealousy raising its head, I suppose.
‘Yeah. Mostly,’ he says, not seeming to be bothered by my question. ‘She was really serious about her career as a model though so she didn’t ever want to do any impact play. She couldn’t afford to have any marks on her skin.’
‘Oh. Right.’
There’s a tense pause where neither of us says anything for a moment. It’s a bit weird, I guess, bringing the phantoms of our exes into the room with us when we’ve been so intimate with each other for the last half an hour.
‘Did you and the ex-arsehole…?’
I quirk a smile. ‘He tried.’
‘Uh-oh. That sounds bad.’
‘It wasn’t bad, exactly. We tried it at the beginning of our relationship, but he wasn’t keen. He said he hated the idea of hurting me. Even though he knew I didn’t see it like that.’
‘I see.’
There’s a moment’s pause where we both silently acknowledge that we ‘see’ it in the same way.
‘Anyway, he said he didn’t want to yuk my yum, but the way he acted about it, like it was something to be worried and a bit ashamed about, took all the fun out of it for me. He tried to get into it, but he bought these fluffy handcuffs, like you get in hen do kits, and a flogger with a big pink heart on it from one of those high street lingerie shops, which felt really lame and infantilising, and it kinda put me off. Then he barely touched me with it and had a bit of a freak out about how red my skin looked afterwards. It totally killed the mood and I never brought it up again.’
‘Disappointing.’
That grin of his is so telling.
I give a stiff shrug. ‘I guess our kinks just weren’t really in tune.’
‘Like yours and mine are?’
‘I guess so,’ I concede, not without a little difficulty. I feel a bit foolish now for assuming we weren’t well matched all those years ago – at least not in the most important ways for me at the time.
Perhaps I was a bit quick to want to grow up and be serious back then though.
‘I think, sexually, we understand each other’s rhythms,’ I agree. ‘You seem to know exactly how to touch me and what to say to turn me to jelly.’
‘Yeah, it’s kind of instinctive with you.’ His eyes are alive with satisfaction, but I can’t begrudge him that. ‘Like you say, I think our bodies are attuned or something,’ he says. ‘I recognise your patterns and needs.’
‘A sort of muscle memory maybe?’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
We’re both silent for a few moments, listening to the quiet hum of the room.
Kit breaks it by turning to look at me and saying, ‘I love that you’re so vocal when you’re enjoying something. It’s a real turn on to know what I’m doing is working for you too.’
