And I really fucking know.
I’m so ready for it when he leans in to kiss me, and while I can’t form words, I can respond this way. I hold him tightly, clutching my arms around him as hard as I can, trying to convey the depth of my feelings with actions. He reaches between us and, without teasing me, without saying anything else, pushes himself into my willing flesh.
A moan travels between us, and I can’t tell if it came from him or me. Probably both. Matching the tenderness he decided on for our first embrace of the year, his hips roll languidly and smoothly. He makes love to me with shattering intensity, whispering praises and promises of eternal love. His tender moves are as eloquent as his words, and his devotion feels as potent as the mattress under me. It might as well be set in the hardest of stones.
Whenever he isn’t murmuring the sweetest of declarations to me, he’s either losing himself in my devoted gaze or kissing my demanding lips. We lose track of time, our bodies melding together like a singular mass of muscles, bones, and nerves. We’re one—more than we’ve ever been before.
Our duality will forever amaze me. This man making sweet, sweet love to me is the same one who called me a whore and came in my ass a few days ago. I can barely reconcile the many versions of him, and I love it. There’s the dominant lover who pulls my hair and drives me mad with a masterful balance of praise and degradation. And there’s the submissive one who lets me be in charge even though he has the physical upper hand. Then there’s this perfectly loving, deliciously greedy man who treats me like I’m humanity’s greatest wonder.
That’s why I know I’ll never be bored of him. It’s like having every man wrapped in one. And he’s all mine.
Despite the slow pace of his relentless hips, I shatter in his arms a few times, my orgasms coming and fading, as intense and sweet as the moment. Eventually, it’s his turn to come, emptying himself deep inside of me, his guttural moans echoing in the otherwise silent room.
He stays over me, still planted in my warmth, and we kiss for minutes that seem to stretch into infinity. With my weakened limbs wrapped around him, I hold him close, keep him right there, until he’s swollen and hard within me again.
Because it’s impossible to tame our feelings and desires, we start all over, getting lost once more in this sweet and poignant moment. As Lex demanded, he’s in charge. Not even once do I consider taking control. Whatever this moment is, I can tell he needs it. It’s like he’s expressinghis deepest needs, his most intimate craving, and I let it wreck me, physically and emotionally.
When his strong arms grow sore, he rolls us around and takes me with him. I take over, following his hands’ gentle nudging and silent instructions. With a tenderness that matches his, I make love to him, marveling at his perfection. I return those sweet praises he whispered to me, expressing how much I love him, his mind, his body, his face…
His eyes make me feel like a goddess worthy of worship, and I almost wish it were true. If we were deities, this would be our entire purpose, our whole existence. Two lovers, endlessly embracing, caught in an infinite display of adoration, drawing from the bottomless well of their love for one another. We’d have our own constellation, forever drawn into the stars and immortalized for billions of years in this state of blissful euphoria.
With the slow-paced rolling of my hips, I bring us both to climax again. I cry out his name as he groans mine, our bodies shattering one last time together. His hands grip my hips tightly, pressing me hard onto him so his release splashes right onto the end of me.
Again, it’s worrying how much I’m willing to give this man in only a few months of knowing him. But I find myself wishing I didn’t have an IUD so that his seed could take root in me. The miracle of life has never been more alluring. But I’m growing obsessed with the thought of a small creature that would be the perfect mix of us, with gray eyes, freckles, hair black like his and curly like mine…
One day,I remind myself. But not right now. I want more sleepless nights like this before we have to deal with sleepless nights of breastfeeding and changing diapers.
Spent, panting, and aching, I topple over him, softly rising with each of his deep breaths. Tired isn’t even the word for it. I’m on the verge of passing out, drained by all this tender lovemaking.
“Fuck, you were right… Starting the year with slex is the best thing ever.”
“Slex?” he wonders.
Oh, shit. Did I really just… ?!
“I meant sex,” I lie.
He studies me, eyes narrowed, and shakes his head. “See, I’d believe you if you weren’t blushing.”
“Of course I’m blushing. We just had sex for two hours straight.”
His hand comes to my jaw, holding me firmly as he utters, “Don’t lie to me, Andrea. Ever.”
Trapped by his iron hold and intense gaze, I give up with a whimper. “Slex means… sex with Lex.”
His proud smirk is almost luminous, his dashing face as tempting as ever. “You needed a whole new word for it?”
“Yes. Sex was too… mundane. Now, will you let me pass out in peace, please?”
Still grinning, he brings me in for a kiss and then releases my jaw. “Sleep, freckles. Then in the morning, you’ll get moreslexwith me.”
“Slex is, by definition, always with you,” I stubbornly mumble, already half asleep.
After a moment, he reveals, “I also have a word for when I have sex with you.”
“Really?”
“I call it making love.”
