“You’ve got more muscle.” Her hands were on me, tracing over my chest and arms. “You feel stronger.”
“I helped out with some of the construction.” I didn’t have time to talk about my fitness regime, especially as the key part of it that had been missing was about to happen. My mouth went to her neck, finding the spots that made her whimper when I sucked them and my hands got busy, running over her skin, her curves, her hips.
She undid her bra herself, a hint where she wanted my mouth and I obliged, trailing my lips and tongue down her skin, tasting her, nipping her with my teeth. I felt her shiver, her fingers threading into my hair and I heard a slight moan as I took one nipple in my mouth and gave it the attention she was telling me it needed.
I was hard and ready; desperate to be in her, to find her release and mine. But this was the last first time and I wanted to savour it, to make the most of every second and not rush anything.
Anya moved her hips, trying to urge me on. I gave her other nipple a pinch, feeling it harden further.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” My words were barely audible and I didn’t know how I managed to speak them. I had almost forgotten how she captivated me.
“Gabe?”
I paused, my hands stilling. There was a worry in how she said my name. “You want to stop?” I looked up and saw her shaking her head.
“No. Just – has there been anyone else since I went back to London?” Her words were quick, all in one breath.
“There’s been no one. I don’t think I’ve even noticed other women existed. What about for you? Did you see anyone when you went back?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry to ask, I had no right…”
“You had every right.” I moved back up her body, holding myself over her so I could kiss her again, needing to give her reassurance and take my own.
Her hands dropped to my waist and my underwear, and she cupped my cock in her hand, running her palm up and down it.
She wrapped a leg over me, bringing us closer. “Lose the underwear. On both of us.”
There was a scramble, a rush, one that had us both laughing, and then my mouth found a nipple again, my cock pushing against her wet centre. I wanted to plunge into her, to lose myself in her depths but I wanted more than that.
“You make me ache for you.” She slipped a hand between us and grasped my cock.
I moved up her body and nibbled her neck, making her groan. “I don’t want to come until you’re in me; hate being so needy.”
“I need you ready, baby. If it’s been a while…”
“It’s been a while. But feel me.”
I traced my fingers along her skin, over the soft patch of curls between her legs and then into her cunt. She was tight and wet, hot. I added a second, gently moving them in and out, nudging her clit with my thumb. I wanted to make her come before I was inside her, needing to nudge her to the edge of losing control.
In the faint light from the lamp, I could see that she was flushed, her breasts heaving with her breath. She was close and needy, her hands wrapped around me and her nails were digging into my back as I fingered her. Her little cries and the half-sentences she gave me made me want to rush, to get inside her and continue to make her mine, but I kept control.
“I’m coming.” Her words were a beat of wings through the still air.
I felt her pussy contract around my fingers and she started to come, her body thrashing against the mattress.
Without giving her a moment to rest, I removed my fingers and replaced them with my cock. My hands went to her hips and I held her as I found a rhythm that worked for us both. I uttered words, fuck knows what, telling her how beautiful she was, how tight, how much I loved fucking her, making her mine. Bullshit that wasn’t really bullshit but you could only say it under the guise of sex.
She came again just before me, her orgasm quieter but longer. Her nails in my back would scar me, but taking her mark was like accepting a medal.
Afterwards, I held her, the sheets rumpled beneath us, our breath stabilising. Whatever my house looked like, however well my career and art might end up, she was what made everything make sense.
I wasn’t letting her go. I just hoped she wanted to stay.
Anya
Iwoke to a scent that I was familiar with and at first I thought I was dreaming. I associated that scent with a barn and a mattress on a mezzanine floor. The arms around me were familiar in their strength and when I managed to open my eyes I saw intricate ink covering the skin and knew I wasn’t dreaming.
Only I wasn’t back in the barn. Instead, I was lying in a large bed with fresh sheets and autumn sunlight teetering through the window.
