I shook my head, dipping my head down to reach him and sucking another bruise into his neck. Switching hands, I moved Smith onto the bed, chest down, and pressed my body weight down on top of him fully. I used my hips like I was fucking him, letting my body thrust his cock into my hand and the tangled sheets.
“It hurts,” he tried again. “Oh, God, it fucking hurts, please stop. Please stop. Pleasestop!”
When I didn’t, Smith’s cries of pain continued. It was minutes before they turned into sobs of gratitude, and only then did I uncurl my fingers from his soft and tender cock. Taking him into my arms, I held him while he cried out the rest of whatever that scene had brought up for him, and after he fell asleep on my lap, I tucked him into my bed and under the blankets.
He was out.
I stared at him for a while like that, curled up in a ball and looking so small on a side of the bed that hadn’t ever been used. At least, not this mattress and not in this home. I waited for a sense of wrongness to come over me, but it never did. In its absence, I cleaned up the toys and changed into a pair of sweats, laid on the covers behind Smith and held him in my arms until sleep finally came for me too.
CHAPTER 19
SMITH
When I woke up the next morning to the sound of my alarm, everything hurt. I was naked and bruised, sticky with cum and sweat, with a headache the size of a small city. I groaned, reaching for the nightstand, only to remember my phone was somewhere on the floor, still in the pocket of my pants.
“Don’t move,” Riggs grunted against the back of my neck before untangling his arms from around me and climbing out of bed. There was a loud thump followed by a muttered curse and a rustle of clothes, and then my alarm went quiet. He set the phone down on the nightstand and crawled back into bed and tugged me into his arms again.
“I can’t go to work today,” I mumbled into the pillow. “I don’t want to go to work today.”
Riggs hummed, brushing his nose across the back of my neck and toward my ear. He licked my neck, a place he’d sucked last night and most certainly left a bruise.
“I don’t have any appointments until noon,” he said. “Stay as long as you want.”
I rolled onto my back and stretched, slowly blinking my eyes open. “I need to email my boss.”
He handed me my phone before rolling onto his back beside me and stretching out. At some point in the night, his shoulder-length hair had come loose from its tie, and the dark waves fanned out across the bed, tickling my ear. I caught a whiff of his shampoo in my nose while I emailed my boss, then rolled over the top of him to drop my phone back onto the nightstand.
Beneath me, Riggs’s cock was long and hard, and without thinking about it at all, I ground down against him and groaned.
“Surprised you’d risk it,” he murmured, gently setting his hands on my waist. He didn’t stop me, and he didn’t force me. He steadied me as I worked myself on top of him, notching his erection between my ass cheeks and bearing down.
“It doesn’t feel like a risk,” I admitted.
I pressed my fingertips against his bare stomach, looking down and studying the dark shadows of his tattoos and the curled line of his happy trail. I traced my fingernail along the waistband of his sweats, rocking back on him once more before forcing myself to stop.
Riggs hummed, encouraging me to move.
“You can use it however you want, baby. I don’t mind.”
My eyes rolled back and I moaned, flinging myself off of him and covering my eyes with both hands. Riggs chuckled and shifted onto his side, gently pulling my hands away from my face.
“Don’t be embarrassed about the things you want,” he said.
“Aren’t two people in a relationship supposed to want the same things?”
Riggs licked his lips, cocked his head to the side. “I thought we both wanted you to feel good.”
“I want you to feel good too,” I protested.
He reached down and rubbed his cock, hips lifting off the bed. “You make me feel good whether I’m hard or not. It felt good in your mouth last night, and it wasn’t hard then.”
I let out a long breath, nodding my understanding. “Would you hate if this took me awhile to get used to?”
“No,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing the corner of my mouth. “I wouldn’t hate to see you trying to understand me.”
I angled my head just enough to kiss him back.
“You understand me already,” I whispered. “At least, it felt like it last night.”
