This is also why I don't fuck her. At least not yet. I take it slow, grind into her as patiently as my hips will allow, feeling every centimetre of her surrounding me. Looking down at Jenna, I watch her top lip arch when I push her knees up to her chest and go as deep as I can go, giving her a gentle twist up.
God, she's beautiful.
As I watch her wriggle underneath me, I find myself feeling the same kind of satisfaction I felt with Arnie, that unique kind of satisfaction that satiates while also creating a constant craving. This desire is what satisfies me the most. Always wanting more is a headspace I am comfortable in.
Jenna interrupts my thoughts and my quickening pace, by reaching across the bed, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under her hips. I'm not sure if she did it for me or for her, but it lets me go a little deeper and makes her squeeze me a little harder. I throw my head back as a soft growl leaves my lips. Her hands come to my backside and she squeezes, digs her nails into me, grasping at the muscle there and searching. I smile about where she's going, and I spread my legs a little for her so she can play with me. Moving me up her body a little, my head is now slightlyhigher than hers. Her eyes flicker closed as I realise this has probably put more pressure on her clit and so I start to roll my hips around in a circle and then a figure of eight, just as she starts to apply some pressure exactly where I like it.
I wait for Jenna to open her eyes again and then I lift my eyebrows, checking she’s okay. She starts to nod with me as we rock together.
When I start to thrust again, slamming myself harder and faster inside her, the nodding of her head picks up pace, whimpers leave her lips, and I know she's close and I so badly want to watch her come before I do, but her finger, my arsehole, her cunt and my cock are all in a world of their own and I can't stop them. So I don't. I thrust into her again and again, harder and harder, pushing up on my hands so I have more strength and more space. Just as my spine tingles and balls seize up high, I look down and I see her eyes are arrested on me, staring at me like she needs me more than oxygen, like I am more than I am, and that tips me over the edge.
Waves of pleasure wash over me, and each one feels like it can’t be beaten but then more tingles, more warmth, more relief comes with the next. When they finally slow down, I open my eyes again and watch her as she comes. She gasps, she sighs, and then she opens her mouth wide and breathes out the daintiest short scream once, and then again. All the time her eyes are on me and mine are on hers and I have never felt so sure that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
As my breath returns, I shift my weight down so I am right above Jenna's face and can look down at her. Her face has smoothed out from the orgasm and she looks up at me and we both smile. Her eyes then start darting around my face as her hands come up to smooth out my hair, before cruising down the bump on my nose, cupping my cheeks, stroking my chin. I keep my eyes on hers, wondering what she sees or what she's looking for. When her pupils settle on mine again, I feel relief because whatever it was, I see she's found it.
And then I go and break the silence, and possibly both our hearts, when I open my mouth and say, “I love you, Jenna.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jenna
Idon't freeze because I'm surprised by what he says. I feel it too, emanating from his skin and mixing with the post-orgasmic oxytocin rush that washes over me as my insides stay moulded to him.
I freeze because I am instantaneously both proud that he was brave enough to say it first, and ashamed because I wasn’t.
I am the one who has studied love. I am the one who has written about it extensively. I am the one who champions love for all. I am love's greatest advocate and yet, I've been fighting it, ignoring it, holding it back in myself.
And so I stop fighting it.
My ears pull back as I smile wide. My eyes rest on his and I push up and touch my nose to his before lying back down on the pillow.
“I love you too, Marty,” I say softly.
When he dives his face down into my shoulder and starts covering my neck and collarbone with kisses, I know that he didn't expect that. He was prepared for a rebuttal, for me to rebuke and challenge him. He was prepared for me to dispute and dismiss his love, and him having that expectation is almost as heart-shattering as if I had actually done that.
“I love you so much, Jenna,” he says into my hair. “I can't believe this happened. I can't believe you happened.”
“I love you, Marty,” I say again. I slide my hand up his strong back and feel disproportionate disappointment when he slides out of me.
He pulls back and tells me he's going to deal with the condom, insisting I stay where I am, and I don't have the energy to argue even if I wanted to. I don't knowif it's the incredibly intense sex we just had, the declarations of love, or just the last four days catching up with me, but I am abruptly weighed down with exhaustion.
That’s why I’m in the same position as a naked Marty walks back to me. I start to smile but that quickly evolves into giggles when Marty picks up his pace and jumps over me, landing sideways next to my body with a loud “Bam!”
“What was that?” I chuckle.
“That is how I feel right now,” he says, and he pulls me closer to him. I reach for the duvet and that gets tangled up with us too. “I feel like I could jump as high as the moon! Like I want to shout out from the rooftops how fucking happy I am right now!”
“Oh, Marty,” I say before I erupt into laughter because he starts tickling me. This continues until I am trying to hit him through the duvet that wraps around me. “Stop!”
And he does stop the tickling, letting me roll onto my side away from the duvet. His body lines up next to mine and before I know what’s happening his lips come down on mine, kissing me so hard I feel like he already wants to go another round. When I feel his dick hardening against my thigh, I know I have to pull away.
“Okay, okay, enough! I need to pee and wash before that happens again,” I pant out, pushing his body away from mine but still keeping my hands on him. I always want my hands on him. “Do you still want to spend the day together?”
“Try and fucking stop me.” He starts to rut against me. “I'm not going anywhere.”
“Jesus, you're like a puppy that is yet to have the snip,” I say but I hold his face in my hands so he can see all the affection I have for this fact.
“That feels like a compliment,” he says, and thrusts harder.
