I take the lead now, and lower myself onto his lap, rubbing myself along his length. We both groan and Jonah bucks his hips, dragging himself through my wetness.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks me. “About us? I mean we never discussed things—and it wasn’t supposed to be likethis.”
I know what he means. It wasn’t supposed to feel so perfect between us, but it does. We weren’t supposed to be anything other than a marriage of convenience, but this blows convenience out of the water.
“I’m sure,” I say simply.
“Good,” Jonah growls.
Using his hand, he guides me onto the head of his cock. I sink down, inch by glorious inch, feeling myself stretch around him. He moves in and out a few times, and I gasp at the feeling of it. Of him.
“I didn’t know it could feel like this. So full and perfect and God, Jonah, it’s so good and we’re so good, and I…” I trail off, knowing that I’m babbling.
“It’s fucking perfect, Winnie. You’re perfect.”
I start to move, working myself up and down on his cock, gasping as the thick length of him spears through me. Jonah leans back and watches me, a gleam in his eyes.
“I love watching you bounce around on my cock like this.”
I whimper, and lift my hips up and down, trying to find the perfect angle to take him. Jonah thrusts upwards and guides me with his hands, helping me find the rhythm.
“I want to watch you make yourself come,” he orders. “I want to see you fall apart with my cock anchored inside of you.”
I move again, this time twisting my hips as I grind down on him. With the hand I’m not using to support myself, I reach down and stroke my clit.
“Fuck, Winnie,” Jonah curses. His hands tighten around my hips and I can tell he’s holding himself back, letting me lead.
I feel more powerful and in control than I have in months. In years.
After a few more moments, I start to come, waves of pleasure building inside of me. Jonah holds me firmly, and thrusts upwards as my orgasm sweeps through me. I feel another one building and I cry out, moving my fingers faster, chasing my pleasure. When I’m done I go limp and sprawl across Jonah’s chest.
“That was…I don’t have the words for it.”
“Good. And I’m not done with you yet.” Jonah sits up, picks me up off of the couch, and I wrap my legs around him. He kicks his jeans off completely, and starts walking us over to the main bedroom. “Our first time deserves a bed. At least for part of it,” he explains. He places me gently on top of the covers, and I frown at the loss of him inside me.
Jonah strips his shirt off and crawls over me, his cock hanging heavy between us. “If I fuck you here, Win, I’m sleeping here too. I won’t have sex with my wife, but sleep in separate rooms.”
“Good.” I tug him forward and then hook my legs around him. “I wanted to ask you to sleep in here anyways. That other bed is way too small for you. You barely fit.”
Jonah grins down at me, and then he notches himself at my entrance and is inside me once more. He fucks me in long thrusts, his face pressed next to mine in the pillow. I hold him against me, rocking upwards to meet each thrust, relishing the way he feels sliding in and out of me, relishing all that he is.
He’s closer to me than he’s ever been, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Heat builds inside me once more, and I claw at his back, dragging him towards me even more. His strokes become faster and harder, until he groans and spills himself inside me. He collapses and rolls off of me, his breathing heavy and his chest heaving.
“That was…” he starts to say.
“I know.” I roll over to face him and smile. “I’ve never had sex like that.”
“Me neither,” he admits.
He reaches out and tugs me towards him, nestling me against his chest. I stay up until he falls asleep, listening to his breathing getting deeper, feeling his leg twitching a bit. It makes me happy to share such a domestic moment with Jonah.
Almost like we’re just a normal couple after all.
I wakeup with the sun, as always, though this time, I’m not alone. Jonah is in bed with me, his naked, sculpted body stretched out long beside me. I take a moment to stare at his tattoos. He’s on his back, so I can see most of them. On one bicep he has an anvil and a trail of horseshoes that wrap around it. Another is of a collection of tumbling wild flowers, which cover his shoulder and part of his chest. There are lyrics wrapping around his other arm, but I can’t make them all out.
He stirs in his sleep, rolling away from me and cutting my examination short. I sit up carefully and start smoothing down my hair. There’s no telling when he’ll wake up and I don’t want to look like a complete mess when he does. I didn’t take off my makeup last night before bed, something I haven’t done in years for fear of getting a pimple, and I’m sure my mascara is running.
I swing my legs over and hop out of bed, and try to be as quiet as possible as I creep over to the door.
