How did he manage it?
And what does it mean to my future?
I have no answers to those questions, and they’ll only distract me from the arousal pulsing through me. So, still smiling, I pull his cock out of his boxers. “I’ll mull over appropriate punishments. But for right now we’re going to do this.”
He lets go of me with one hand so he can hold his cock upright as I line myself up above him, lowering my hips to sheathe him with my pussy.
I’m wet enough for it to be comfortable, but we haven’t had as much foreplay as normal, so the penetration feels tight. We both groan as I settle around him.
“Yes,” he hisses out, closing his eyes briefly as he processes the feelings. “Fuck, baby, you always feel just right.”
I love the sound of that. I want him to say more. I hold on to his shoulders and start to ride him.
His eyes open as he begins rocking up to meet my rhythm. We’re both tired after a very long day. We’re both stretched after everything that’s happened in the past forty-eight hours. I don’t have much control, and he doesn’t either.
Soon we’re fucking hard and fast and raw, our motion almost clumsy as we work up toward release. He’s grunting like an animal, and I’m doing the same. Every time I open my eyes, he’s staring up at me.
What I see in his eyes should be disturbing. Hunger. Heat. Need. Possessiveness. And that same awe I caught in his gaze the very first day and have continued to see in random flickers and glints all this time.
Awe.
At me.
It should rattle and disorient me so much it distracts from my climb toward orgasm, but it doesn’t. Because I want it. I need it. It’s become an inextricable part of sex for me.
Like I might never be able to give myself physically without it again.
Not ever again.
“Kat,” he gasps, holding fistfuls of my ass as he bucks up into me. His features twist with effort and pleasure. “Kat, come, baby. Come soon.”
I make a helpless sound as I let go of his shoulder with one hand to rub my clit. The extra stimulation is enough to push me into orgasm.
I cry out loudly at the sudden waves of pleasure, and I keep moaning as Micah lets go too, thrusting into me from below. “Don’t forget to pull out,” I manage to say when I see he’s on the cusp of coming.
“Fuck!” He manages to withdraw his cock from mypussy just in time. Then he pulls me back down with his cock folded between us as he jerks through the spasms of his release.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight as we come down, gasping in sync.
When he’s finally regained his power of speech, he says, “Thanks. I can’t believe I almost forgot to pull out.”
“We were really into it. But I also don’t want to get pregnant.”
“I know. I know. I’ll do better.”
I sigh against his shoulder. “You did just fine.”
My hair is still loose since I never braided it after washing. He strokes down the length of it. “And as always, baby,youare a lot better than fine.”
14
Every eveningfor the next three weeks, Micah asks if I want him to leave the next morning.
Every evening I tell him I’ll let him know in the morning.
Each morning, I’m even further from wanting him gone.
His wound continues to heal cleanly and without infection. Eventually there’s nothing left visible of the gunshot but a thick scab. We have sex nearly every day, and not once does Micah ask questions or imply that there’s anything more serious between us than recreational physical release.
