I laughed, loving her frustration. “How much do you want to come?”
“I want you to fuck me more. I want to touch you.”
“You can when I say so.”
I was going to let her touch me before I finished, something that I didn’t usually do. I liked to do the touching, all of it. I couldn’t do that with Jerrica; I knew it would be too anonymous for her. I knew I didn’t want her to be the same as the other women I’d been with. I knew a lot of things right now, but I didn’t understand them.
I moved off the bed, watching her while I took off the shorts I’d slept in. Her eyes drank me in, moving down my body and fixing on my dick.
“Now I understand when heroines in romance novels ask if it’ll fit.” She didn’t move her gaze.
“It’ll fit. It might be uncomfortable at first.” Because I was big. I’d had one woman change to give me a half-hearted hand job because she’d decided I was too big for her to manage. I’d been nineteen and hadn’t known much better. “But then it’ll be good. More than good.”
She parted her legs more, giving me a better view that made me groan. Her hands stayed fixed on the pillow.
I moved over her, taking my cock in my hand and teasing her clit with its tip, watching her mouth open more as she gasped.
She was going to come quickly when I was in her. I probably wasn’t going to last much longer than her.
I lined it up at her entrance, sensing her tense a little, which wasn’t good. I leaned back down and sucked a nipple hard, lifting a hand to tweak the other and then I slid in, her slickness making it smooth, keeping going until I was seated all the way and then pausing, giving her time to stretch around me, get used to my size.
I limited my kisses, but it was too tempting not to take her mouth in a messy battle while I started to move. I kept it slow for the first couple of thrusts, her hands still above her head, her knees lifting up, giving me more space and letting me go even deeper.
She was vice-like and responsive with the little noises she made, sounds that were going to haunt me every time I grew hard again. I moved high over her, pushing on her leg, and started to fuck her faster and harder, knowing she’d be sore after and thinking of me all day. That thought was potent, scary and heady, because I didn’t want her to walk away from this room today and for this to be it for her. I wasn’t even going to think what it was going to do to me.
Her eyes widened, her tits bouncing with each movement, her chest flushed and mouth parting.
“Need to come!” She spat the words out.
“So come around my cock.” I moved harder inside her, feeling her explode, her hips jerking, her pussy getting obscenely wetter. She squeezed my cock tight, over and over again, her whimpers and moans driving me almost to the very edge.
“Good girl. That felt amazing.” She was still whimpering as I spoke. I pulled together every last ounce of my control. “You can move your hands now while I come inside you.”
Jerrica grasped hold of my shoulders, her nails digging in my back, while I fought not to lose it too soon. I wanted to savour this, to try and be aware of everything that was happening, just in case this never happened again. My balls tightened, that pull that told me my own happy ending was beginning.
I came with a roar, far too soon, my cock deep inside her, her pussy pulsing again. My head dropped to her shoulder, sucking the skin there as I poured into her, the feeling potent and frightening at the same time.
I stayed inside her as my heart rate came down, my mouth finding hers in a series of sweet, hard kisses, realisation dawning along with the growing light that fanned into our room.
I’d fucked Jerrica.
I’m come inside her, a decision I’d made with the right head.
We had another four nights in this room. In this bed.
I pushed myself up and looked at her beautiful face, flushed and sated from her two orgasms.
I had absolutely no regrets.
I shifted to my side of the bed, not wanting to crush her, and needing to lie down after expending some sort of rare energy.
I wasn’t a cuddler. As a child, hugs had been infrequent, usually when my mother was sober and not high, and she didn’t have a man around to devote her attention to. Those three things were rare by themselves and virtually never happened all at the same time. I’d talked about it with my therapist, why I found physical contact other than sex so hard, the one exception being when one of Nate’s girls needed a hug. She’d listened, asking questions, making no suggestions, coming back to it over the course of a few sessions, asking me why I thought I couldn’t hug, or cuddle. Was it about me not being able to give physical affection or receiving it.
The answer was simple.
I didn’t know how to do it. My brain when I was young hadn’t understood that hugging or physical contact was nice and safe, it wasn’t used to the chemicals such contact would chuck out, and my fight or flight — in this case flight — reaction kicked in. It was all more complex than that, but in short, little boy Jesse had no idea how to hug.
Rubbing wrists and ankles after you’d loosened the ties was a lot easier to emotionally deal with, because that touch served a purpose, just like giving a woman an orgasm.
