And then, finally, I feel it, the explosion of pleasure that almost sends me toppling from the kitchen counter right there on the spot. I have to grip the Formica below me and press my lips together to keep from making too much noise, but my attempts to contain it only seem to intensify the feelings blooming out from between my legs. My hips are grinding into his face, smearing him with my wetness, and he doesn’t break away for a moment, not so much as catching his breath before I have to force his head back due to my over-sensitized folds.
He kisses me again, his cock still in his hand as he moves between my legs, and this time, I can taste my wetness on his mouth. It sends a shudder of desire through me, the evidence of how badly he wants me, and I hook my legs around him, drawing him toward me, telling him in every way I can that I want to feel him inside of me.
“You’re sure you’re ready?” he asks me, holding himself just an inch or two from my slit. The low rasp to his voice speaks to how close he is to losing control, but he keeps himself together, not quite letting his need get the better of him.
“Oh God, I’m sure,” I moan against his mouth. At last, I feel the pressure of him against me, and he eases himself inside of me for the first time in what feels like forever.
At first, the sensation is tender, new—it’s the first time I’ve been with someone, after all, since I had the twins. But he moves slowly and carefully, and I’m so soaked from the ministrations of his mouth that the feeling soon transforms into complete pleasure. I sink my nails into the small of his back, telling him that he can move deeper, and he gives me what I want, pushing himself inside of me up to the hilt with a long, deep groan.
“Oh, fuck, you feel just as good as I remember,” he groans against my mouth. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this, Lila. How many times I’ve thought about fucking you just like I did that night.”
I can only gasp in response, kissing him again so deeply that I have to hope he can tell that I know just what he means. It has been a whole lifetime since the last time we did this, or that’s what it feels like, a whole world away from the previous encounter that changed everything about my life and the way I lived it.
But nothing that feels this good could come with any consequences. I hook my ankles around him, drawing him even deeper inside of me, needing to feel every inch of him filling me in every way possible. My hands slide to the small of his back, telling him that he can go even deeper, and he’s quick to oblige,bringing out bodies together till there’s no space between us at all, nothing that could even pass for it.
Even though my orgasm only just retreated, I can already feel another starting to get the better of me, the heat in the deepest parts of me beginning to rekindle into a raging inferno. He’s breathing hard, his hands in my hair, his body bucking against mine over and over again. I breathe in the scent of him, like I could get drunk on it, and in that moment, it truly feels as though I could. The mingling scent of my wetness on his mouth and the deep smoky scent that I’ve come to associate with him…I would do anything to linger in it forever.
He begins to slow, steadying himself within me—like if he keeps going at the pace he was, he might not be able to hold himself back.
“Tell me you’re close,” he orders me, all semblance of sweetness forgotten as he moves toward the edge of his own release.
“I’m close, Martin,” I whine against his lips. “Fuck, I’m so close…”
He presses his body to mine, grinding up against my clit as he stills inside of me. The sensation of such fullness is almost unbearable, but as I feel the delicious weight of him against my swollen nub, I can’t pretend to hold back any longer. My body sags into his, my eyes rolling back as I press my face into his still-clothed shoulder. The pleasure turns inward once more, my pussy squeezing around him so tightly it’s as though I’ll never let him go.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” he growls against my mouth, and he pulls back, thrusting deep inside my spasming slit once more. I can only cling to him for dear life. The ground could give way beneathus, and I knew that neither of us would give a damn about it, this connection wiping away everything else in the world but his touch on my body.
He holds me there for a long time, clearly reluctant to pull back, as reluctant as I am for this to be over. But as he gently kisses me again, I know it isn’t like before. It’s not like the first time we did this, when it was entirely anonymous and I didn’t know anything about him other than the way he looked and the way he felt inside of me. No, as his mouth softens against mine again, I know that there’s more here than there ever was before.
And that everything I thought I lost, when I walked out on him after the first time, might be closer to my grasp than I could ever have imagined.
16
MARTIN
I wakethe next morning to the sound of my phone buzzing, and I grope over to answer it before I’ve so much as opened my eyes. Which means, when I do, it comes as something of a shock to remember that I’m not in my home.
Either of them. No, I’m in Lila’s apartment, where I slept the night, as hard as that is to believe. After we disentangled ourselves at the kitchen counter, she led me through to the bedroom, where the twins were sleeping, and invited me to spend the night. It might not have been much more than a single bed we had to share, but when we spent the evening wrapped up in each other, it was hard to care that we didn’t have much space.
“Hello?” I greet the caller, as I rub the sleep from my eyes and take stock of my surroundings. I can hear noises from the kitchen, where I assume Lila must have taken the twins already, as their cribs are empty.
“Martin? Is that you? You sound…different.”
Martha’s voice comes down the line, and I can tell at once that she’s panicked. I sigh. She rarely reaches out to me unless it hassomething to do with Thomas. As much as I’d like to pretend that my real life doesn’t exist outside of this apartment right now, I know I don’t have any choice but to hear her out.
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “What’s going on?”
“I just got a call from a hospital not far from your place,” she explains, her voice frayed around the edges. I wonder how long she’s been awake, but I doubt she wants to have that conversation right now. “Thomas was just brought in with some injuries. He needs someone to patch him up, but he’s refusing to be seen by anyone else. Can you…?”
She trails off. She doesn’t need to fill in the gaps; I know what she’s asking.
I swing my legs out of bed, rubbing my hand over my face. “You’re asking me to go in and take care of him?”
“Could you?” she asks hopefully. “I know it’s not convenient, but I…I just want to know he’s okay. And if you can talk to him, you can find out what caused all of this, maybe figure out how to stop it from happening again…”
I glance to the window. It’s a beautiful day outside, the sun pouring in through the buildings beyond her apartment. I don’t have work today, and I could have easily found some excuse to spend the rest of the day with Lila and the twins.
But I have responsibilities, and I can’t just brush them aside, no matter how much I might want to. He’s still my son. And if he’s hurt—even if I’m sure it’s because of something he did, just like the other half dozen times he’s found himself in the hospital for the same thing—I have to do what I can to help him.
